


That Old Saying

by RoselessThorn



Series: Something Old, Something New [1]
Category: Dress Up Time Princess (video game), Dress Up! Time Princess
Genre: 1930s, Angst, Casseroles, Corruption, Drinking, F/M, Gotham Memoirs, Heavy Drinking, Italian Food, Italian Mafia, Kind of Canon Compliant, Light Bondage, Loss, Major Spoilers, Mental Hospital, Minor Spoilers, New York City, POV First Person, Tickling, foreplay dissolve, gunfight, la cosa nostra, playful anchronism, sicilian food, some gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:01:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 58,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26544886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoselessThorn/pseuds/RoselessThorn
Summary: Set in a couple of years after prohibition is repealed when the Great depression is in full swing. 5 mafia families in New York hold a lot of power -- nearly anybody can be bought. This is a story exploring the relationship between Vittorio Puzo and Elizabeth Colvin/Main Character in the Dress Up! Time Princess game from IGG.As my friends and other fandoms say if you want to read it and no one's written it, then you're just going to have to write it.This is written from Vittorio Puzo's POV in the first person. Some strong language ahead.
Relationships: Elizabeth Colvin/Vittorio Puzo, Elizabeth Colvin/Vittorio Puzo(Dress Up! Time Princess), Main Character/Vittorio Puzo, Nino Ricci/Meatballs
Series: Something Old, Something New [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1981571
Comments: 79
Kudos: 191





	1. Chapter 1

How does that old saying go?

Never trust a beautiful face.

We met at the Metropolitan Hospital. She was a new nurse, or so I thought. 

I came to see my sister Stella at this institution. Metropolitan Hospital is what anyone with good sense would call a shithole. But this isn’t your run-of-the mill establishment. This is the kind of place that puts the institution into “institutionalized.” They take in the crazies from all over New York and “rehabilitate” them to rejoin polite society. I’m not sure how polite we can call society when the place doesn’t look like it can use the label of Sanitarium. 

I’m getting off track here - Stella has been having some issues with compliance. Family life hasn’t been her strong suit, and she had a tendency to sing like a canary more often than not. Though she’s actually related to me by blood, the Family policy dictated that this little songbird needed to pipe down. Imagine having to commit your own sister because she couldn’t keep our private matters private. The most effective method of enforcement is to rip her from the warm luxuries of our nouveau riche lifestyle and dump her into a rickety iron bed in a filthy, cramped room with tobacco-stained wallpaper. She hasn’t been in here long, and I visit her whenever I can pass by First Street. Though it’s run by the city and ostensibly offers actual medical care; plenty of us remember that address as the home of New York Asylum for the Insane, and they’re still the only place that lets you store people under the pretense of mental illness, whether it’s legitimate or not. The market crash wasn’t kind to anyone outside of illicit trades, so the Hospital has had to lean on... unusual sources for support. In any case, they owe us a lot of favors, and I hope the stay has had its intended effect on my little pigeon.

I nod to the door attendant and walk into the lobby. The receptionist glances over at me while speaking on the telephone and motions for me to proceed into the Mental Health ward. As my shoes tread on the scuffed tiles, I saw Stella burst out of her room, eyes ablaze at the nearest nurse, some girl with wavy auburn hair. Normally I don’t pay any mind to the nurses here, because they have been pretty vicious - and also very blonde. The unusual hair aside, this girl looks like she is in way over her head. She is mousy where the normal nurses are of a much sturdier stock. Stella grabs at her screaming about how they were going to lock her up again. This nurse, while initially taken aback, starts speaking to her normally, and Stella withdraws. Huh, usually there’s a lot more screaming. I pretend to look at the bulletin board while listening to Stella mumbling about how she’ll be a good girl. She must have seen the uniform and remembered her place. Her eyes widen when the Nurse whispers something else to her I can’t quite hear. I only catch Stella telling the nurse that she really wants to go home. Enough pretending. I quietly approach the two women.  
I clear my throat and call out to Stella, who turns to me, pleading with me to bring her home, her voice dripping with apology. I tell her I am sorry, but I could only bring her home when things improve. Stella shrieked, “I don’t want to be here, _fratello_. I miss home!”

The wavy auburn haired nurse softly spoke up, “If you have the means, Sir, you should bring her home. She… she misses all of you dearly.”

“Thank you for the suggestion, I’ll consider it.” I reply automatically, my tone terse. I am annoyed that my will concerning Stella is being challenged.

Before she has a chance to respond, another Nurse calls out from the top of the stairs. Something about a patient having a relapse. The nurse near me freezes, and tries to flatten herself against the wall -- when you’ve gotten used to watching people, you can tell when someone’s trying to find a way out. I realize I have never seen her here on any of my visits, so either this must be her first day, or she’s got some other reason to be here unrelated to the so-called healthcare mission of the hospital. The nurse at the top of the stairs notices the auburn-haired nurse trying to hide and calls out to her.

“You there! Please hurry, I need your help.”

The auburn-haired nurse’s shoulders slump and she starts jogging up the stairs two at a time. Upstairs I hear the rattle of metal that suggests someone is shaking in a hospital bed. I hear some shouting from nurses about grabbing straps before I usher Stella back into her room.

“That lady is a reporter. I’m going to tell her everything.”

I wonder where Stella got that idea. Maybe this was what they were whispering to each other before Stella ran into me. I don’t think she understands that a reporter can’t save her now.  
Stella looks at me triumphantly. I shake my head.

“You learn how to keep the business private, _piccione_ , and maybe we’ll call that an improvement.” The victory in Stella’s eyes is cut to shreds by my words. She slumps back onto her hospital bed and stares at the floor.

While she didn't violate _omertà_ , she was still treading on dangerous ground with her loose lips. Hopefully, she'll be straightened out soon.

I leave and close the door behind me. As much of a dump as the Metropolitan Hospital is, I’m thankful the doors lock from the outside. The thrashing and shouting from upstairs dies down. Stella says that broad is a reporter? I laugh to myself as I step outside and light up a cigarette.

A few minutes later, the auburn-haired nurse rushes out of the front doors. She is panting heavily and mumbles something about that being too close, and about not getting caught. She starts waving her arms frantically and jumping up and down to catch the attention of a taxi driver, with a notebook in hand. I spy some brunette curls falling loose below her auburn waves. I can’t stop my smile from curling on my face. Hah! Stella might have been right. Too bad it looks like she’s been ratted out with very little to show for it. She’s too soft to be going undercover in seedy joints. She must be new to reporting, too.

“Taxi!”

She waves her arms desperately. A cab pulls up to the curb and she practically leaps into the backseat. As the car drives away, I see her rip off the nurse’s dust cap and the wig and a cascade of dark brown strands pour out from where she’s removed her disguise.  
Well, she must have seen enough to get her excited enough to write if she was waving her notebook around. Makes me wonder what she thinks she has found. Someone holed up that shouldn’t be there? I finish my cigarette and snuff the flame out on the lid of my silver cigarette case. I shake out the ash before tucking it inside my jacket pocket carefully. I adjust my collar and turn to walk to the car where Nino is waiting for me, right after rush hour as instructed.

It’s not until I see the news the next morning that I realize that dame stumbled on to something big. 

In my business, it pays to have good habits like keeping up with the latest headlines. Usually it’s a lot of sensationalist _cazzata_ on the front page, so absurd the papers would fly out of the newsies’ hands until the masses got their fill. I wonder how fiction writers stay in the business when the news is directly competing with them. The Sun News catches my eye with their front page headline - TRAGIC TALE OF A MAD WOMAN. 

This front page article mentions that name I heard shouted back at the loony bin just yesterday - Jessica Taylor. Apparently her father was a detective and her daughter Amy went missing. Jessica herself was poor, but her father’s pension was enough to cover her hospital stay. The article is a little salaciously written, but that’s what sells the papers these days. My eyes run back up the page to the byline - Elizabeth Colvin. I’ll have to remember Miss Colvin if I run into her again. She knew how to write the news so it got printed, but she had enough facts in there to draw some attention to the dump that is the Metropolitan Hospital. I have to give her credit, she’s got a pretty face, but some brains in there too. Though I was definitely right about her being in over her head - this has some familiar fingers all over it. I just hope that she can keep her pretty little head away from the danger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to ScholarlyDragon for helping me round this out. I'm a very much a novice writer, but I wanted to read a story about these two and there's simply not enough content inside the source material alone.
> 
> Some Dialogue options that are in the game are used, between the Main character and Vittorio for the canon story beats.
> 
> Notes:
> 
>  _Fratello_ \- brother (formal)  
>  _Piccione_ \- pigeon, Vitto's familial endearment of his sister. She calls him the Big Wolf.  
>  _Omertà_ \- a code of silence about criminal activity and a refusal to give evidence to authorities.  
>  _Cazzata_ \- Bullsh*t
> 
> Edit: 10-8-2020
> 
> 2nd Round betas by Red, VerdiWithin, and astroAntagonist


	2. Chapter 2

Over the next few weeks after that first explosive exposé, the news goes back to the normal day to day. Apparently the Hospital and the _Sun News_ got into some sort of legal disagreement, but that's as much as anyone disclosed. New York isn't called the _City that never sleeps_ for nothing. Yesterday’s big news is tomorrow’s page six. They say curiosity killed the cat… and I wonder what happened to Miss Colvin. I haven’t seen an article from her again.

Nino and my boys are at the Sky Tower construction site. Gotta keep up appearances even if this isn't the real business. Francisco Juliano's guys are building the Vosse Tower across the street. Everything with this prick has been a pissing match. We get a contract to build a tower, Juliano decides he needs to get involved across the street. It's not enough that we're fighting for the same customers by day, but we're fighting over them by night, too. I start my rounds at the site when I see Alvaro - one of Juliano’s boys - and Nino on the construction site along with a short figure I don't immediately recognize. Curious, I notice that their voice has a familiar feminine quality. I recall the reporter that was impersonating a nurse back at Metropolitan Hospital. She is dressed in what you’d expect an intern at a Newspaper to wear - a button-down shirt with some suspenders and slacks but with some hints at a curvier figure underneath. I listen in on the conversation. It sounds like Nino and Alvaro are arguing over the heights of the differing buildings under construction. There’s a large crowd just between my crew and Juliano’s crew. Another cock-measuring match -- I roll my eyes. I turn my head when Alvaro speaks.

“I’ll pay you double to feature the Vosse Building as the tallest in the district.”  
Alvaro, like most of Juliano's capos, strikes an imposing figure. I look at the petite reporter and expect some acquiescence to Alvaro's demand.

The little mouse cooly replies, “Please do not undermine my professional integrity, Mr. Alvaro.” Seems I was right- that voice is a dead ringer for the “nurse” with the auburn wig. I weave through the crowd to get a better look at her. Her spectacled face reveals that she is in no mood.

“Hah, reporters fly to money like flies to rotten meat. Why preach about work ethics now?” he sneers.

Not missing a beat, she replies, “Well this fly won’t be buzzing to your rotten meat of a building.” 

Even Nino’s jaw drops at the balls on this one. Alvaro is initially struck speechless and clenches his fists, clearly struggling at having to deal with a cat who has claws. He huffs and regains his composure, replying, “This won’t end well for you, missy.”

Nino interjects, “Enough, Alvaro you --” I clap my hand on Nino’s shoulder, cutting him off. I stare at Alvaro. Alvaro starts turning white once he recognizes me.

There's a reason why I make these rounds, because left to their own devices, these two dogs will bark at each other until yanked away. I firmly squeeze Nino's shoulder and he winces. Good, now I have their attention.

I speak slowly so both of these idiots catch my meaning, “Nino, I can forgive the worker dispute, but if you can’t handle even a little thing like this?” I gesture towards the reporter and Alvaro.

Nino regains himself, “Boss, you’re here…”

Alvaro manages to sputter, “M-Mr. Puzo?”

I turn toward the reporter, pouring on my legitimate business owner charm. “I’m sorry you got caught up in this, Miss Colvin.” 

A flicker of recognition dances past her eyes as she looks at me. She furrows her brow and a blush creeps across her cheeks. Not sure if it's anger or...something else? She's staring at me.  
I would know what to do with this attention from another type of woman, but from a reporter it's surprising. I put a pin in that thought for later; I need to make sure these knuckleheads stop posturing, so I address Nino.

“The roof of the Sky Tower need not be so tall, Nino. We can let the Vosse Building be the tallest in the district if they wish.”

Nino’s jaw hangs open, and he protests, “But, boss!”

I remain firm and turn to Juliano’s man, “Alvaro, please keep your workers in check…” I motion toward the men behind him staring daggers at Nino. “Or I’ll have to do it for you, on behalf of Mr. Juliano.” The color drains from Alvaro’s face when I say these words. He glanced from Nino, and then back to me, nods and retreats to his construction site across the street. I grasp my lapels to adjust my overcoat over my suit and see that Miss Colvin is staring at me, seeming dumbfounded as to what happened. 

I stare at her spectacled face and motion over to Nino. Without taking my eyes off of her, I instruct Nino to escort Miss Colvin off of the premises. I don't need a nosy reporter, even this crafty dresser, to keep digging into one of my projects -- even though this is one of the rare projects that is above board. They say good business men keep a diversified portfolio. But if she digs into one project, she’s likely to find another that isn’t so savory. Nino gently grabs Miss Colvin’s arm and briskly walks with her to the edge of the construction site. I pull out a cigarette and tap it thoughtfully against my silver case as I watch Nino return to me.

“I swear, I didn’t know Alvaro was coming. Just figured havin’ a good reason to have my name in the papers would be a nice goal.”

I put the cigarette in my mouth and light it, while staring down Nino. He gulps.

“The boys...really wanted to win one of these competitions for once, boss.”

I take a long drag off of my cigarette and forcefully exhale the smoke down and out. 

“Juliano turns these into competitions. The only way to win is to not play. If he doesn’t find it fun, he leaves us alone.”

Nino considers my words and lights his own cigarette. We stand in silence staring at the Vosse tower lot across the street. A deep whistle booms across the lot. The shift is ending. With a reminder that he needs to check on the restaurants this week, Nino nods and leaves to go to his car. I look at the remaining length on my cigarette and find it unappetizing. I toss it to the ground, crushing the embers under my loafers.

I pull the car away from the curb and drive, but my thoughts remain behind at the site. I wonder what Miss Colvin saw on the construction site. Did Nino show her anything that would lead to bad press? Nah, he’s never been that stupid. We had nothing happening after hours this week, so there shouldn’t have been anything to write about that’s out of the ordinary for a construction site. It's the third Wednesday of the month. I needed Nino to focus on keeping up our appearances, because it's time to see Stella again.

I get to First Street and park the car. I needed to check Stella’s progress to see if she’s ready to come back home. After last month's antics, I needed to leave her alone for a few weeks. I hope she's had time to reflect. I adjust my overcoat lapels and run my gloved hand over my hair to slick down the flyaways while walking up to the familiar door.

I open the door and I have to blink my eyes. When did this place get so...bright? I stop and look around, taking in the gleaming tile floor and the spotless white walls. Only a month ago you couldn't pay a cockroach to live here. I walk over to the receptionist, who greets me warmly. I tell her who I’m here to see and she buzzes me through. She knows me, and comments on the amount of time that's passed between visits.

The transformation extends into the Mental Health wing. The whole place looks like it’s brand new. This feels like a reaction to the Sun Times article. Because this place was literally the stuff of nightmares, and now everything’s been plastered over. For a job this quick, I expected to see more corners to be cut. Maybe the hospital is finally following expected standards? I shake my head in disbelief while walking to Stella’s room and knocking on the door. 

No answer. I try the handle, and I hear the soft click of the latch before pushing the door open. Stella is sitting on a gleaming utilitarian bed with clean sheets and a crisp hospital gown. She stares out the window, quiet.

“Well, if I knew it’d be this nice, I’d move in.” 

Stella flinches at the sound of my voice and turns to face me. She looks fearful. I walk closer to her and she grabs the ends of my scarf desperately.

“Please, Vitto. You need to take me out of here. It’s not safe, _Lupo_. I won’t talk anymore to anyone as long as you GET. ME. OUT. OF. HERE.”

As I noted the intensity of her eyes, my gaze drifts down to her hands and that’s when I see the deep bruises on her wrists peeking out from under her gown sleeves. So much for the fresh paint on the walls...all the horrors are just under the rug now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by the incomparable scholarlydragon
> 
> Note:  
>  _Lupo_ \- Wolf. Stella’s actual endearment for her brother. How he knows she needs to come home.
> 
> edit: 10-8-2020
> 
> 2nd round Betas by: Red, VerdiWithin


	3. Chapter 3

The next few days at home are quiet. Stella rarely talks anymore. I suppose that’s what her trip to the loony bin was supposed to do, but I can’t get the bruises out of my mind.My poor little piccione. I remember those few weeks ago when I heard the rattling and shaking on the next floor and recall that nurse shouting about getting the straps. She got the lesson the Family wanted, but it feels like I've lost my sister. I feel pangs of guilt; this is what I expected might happen, after all. I inwardly grimace at this cost of continuing business, and my mind goes back to the fresh paint and new tile in the Hospital. If this is someone’s sick idea of a message, I have some ideas on who’s sending it. I’ll have to check in with Leonardo, my little double agent. I planted him in Alvaro’s crew earlier this year to keep an eye on Francisco Juliano. That egomaniac is trying something, but right now I’m not sure what.

I decide to distract myself with the morning newspaper. _Sun Times_ and the _Mandarin_ are full of sensationalist crap. At least they can all agree on the weather: overcast with rain this evening. I reach for the _Gotham Times_. I almost never read this rag because it's usually dry, but I spot a curious column below the fold. This is not the write up that Nino and Alvaro were fighting over...is it? I read, fascinated that someone could make the truth this entertaining.

Instead of simply writing a feature of the tallest building in the district, the article focuses on the height debate between both sites. I chuckle, and think to myself that Juliano's going to have to accept a draw in this measuring contest. My eyes wander back over to the byline and I see her name. It looks like she isn't out of the news business yet. I smile. Maybe she's not a bombshell like Mrs. Molly's crew in the Sparrow Room, but she's got something in her eyes that intrigues me. I recall the exact way she stared at me when I encouraged Alvaro off the Sky Tower site. I wonder if she recognized me from the Hospital. The little mouse is kinda cute in her own way...but the way she shut down Alvaro's attempt at bribing her is what piqued my curiosity. I have never seen a member of the press turn down a stack of cash before, let alone this little lady telling a made man to mind his own business. That speaks volumes about the strength of her character. I fold the paper and pick up my coffee and take a contemplative sip. I wonder what she would have written if she did take Alvaro up on his offer. Though if she did, I probably wouldn’t still be thinking about her.

The loud ring of the telephone in the hall interrupts my thoughts. I rush over to the phone by the second chime.

“Mr. Puzo.” It’s Leonardo. Good.

“Any news?” I inquire.

“That new talkie is premiering at the Peacock’s Theatre tomorrow night. They have the lead actress and the director in attendance with all the bells and whistles. Supposed to be a big feather in his cap on the up and up side of the biz.”

“I see.” I pause, remembering why I was anxious for this call. “Was he generous to any deserving souls lately?”

“Seems that the Peacock also didn’t like losing his easy tip line from Stella’s beau. Looks like someone didn’t visit her enough and he made a donation to the Metropolitan Hospital recently. It was _enormemente apprezzato_.”

I swallow. I know what this means.

“Make yourself scarce. Tell him you need to take care of your sister upstate this weekend and leave tonight. I’ll call you when it’s safe to come back.” I toggle the plunger and start dialing the construction site line.

I hear some throat clearing through the receiver before he recites, “Nino Ricci with Meritt Construction Services”

“Nino, it’s me.” I hear what sounds like a sigh of relief.

“Boss, what’s up?”

“I’m thinking we ought to take your boys out to the Loew’s Valencia for the new talkie this weekend.”

“Ooh, what were we thinkin’?”

“Place looks a little dusty, and could use some freshening up. Figured we can give ‘em a hand.”

“Understood, Boss. What time is the show?”

“The film starts at 7:30 tomorrow. I figure the show will start about an hour later, but we don’t want to miss the premiere they’re planning.”

“Ooh, we wouldn’t want to miss it for the world.” Nino’s easy laughter dances through the receiver to the point where I can practically hear the bastard smiling. 

I hang up the phone and rub my chin. I’m feeling a bit peckish, and I glance at my watch. It’s past six in the evening, and my favorite restaurant should have my table ready by the time I get there. I grab my coat, gloves, and umbrella, and take a last look in the mirror before leaving. I step outside the villa and see Carmine, my personal driver, enjoying a smoke. He looks up and notices me staring at him. He rushes to put out his cigarette and moves to open the rear passenger door. I climb in and tell him we’re going to Manny’s. Carmine’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror and he nods. I let him know that I will call him if I need him to pick me up, as I plan to walk by the Valencia after dinner to make preparations for tomorrow.

\---

My all time favorite joint in the city is Manny Wolf’s Chop House. It advertises itself as an old fashioned restaurant with a devoted clientele. While it’s not owned by any Families of The Commission, it’s known for generous portions of mouth-watering foods. I remove my gloves as I greet the host with a familiar smile. He takes my overcoat and umbrella, and leads me to the table in the corner by the window, where I usually sit. It lets me observe the river of lost souls walking along 49th Street. There’s cheaper places here too, and while Manny Wolf’s maintains a high quality, the size of the meal is worth it enough for many folks to come here. Makes it easy to blend in and just observe people. 

As I remove my blazer and place it over the back of the chair, I see Jerry coming up to my table. He is always my waiter - no surprise since he knows I take good care of him. I ask him to bring me my usual - a one pound steak with julienned potatoes and a sizeable bowl of the red soup they call manhattan clam chowder. It’s hard to go wrong with a steak. And Manny’s always serves them just past rare by default. As my waiter brings me a glass of shiraz from the bottles I keep here to go with my meals, I turn my head to look outside the window.

I spy a familiar figure, her hair now platinum blonde. While she can change her hair, she can’t change her face that easily. Miss Colvin is walking over to the diner across the street and sits in a bar seat facing the window. I see her get a coffee, and collapse into the bar seat, removing her glasses and holding her head in her hands. In that moment, I wonder what rattled the poor mouse. Maybe the stress of keeping up with other newspapers is getting to her. 

My steak arrives and I turn my attention to my food. It’s not the same as food from the motherland, it’s distinctly American. It’s not like I don’t have plenty of places to get a good plate of pasta, but sometimes only a steak will do. I keep sneaking glances over at Miss Colvin and take a mental note that no food ever arrives for her.

As I finish and contemplate getting an after dinner coffee, I glance back over to the diner window. Miss Colvin is still hanging her head in her hands. There is no indication that she has even eaten. Bits of crumpled paper litter her area of the bar top. As if on cue, It starts to rain and my mind wanders, trying to think of any small way I could assist. The waiter clears his throat to bring my attention back to the table.

“Would you care for a cup of coffee, Mr. Puzo?” He places my bill on the table and looks at me expectantly. I almost always take one cup.

“Yes please, and thank you,” I reply. An idea hits me while I’m grabbing a bank note from my wallet. I press a crisp $20 bill into his hand.* 

“Jerry, I have a favor to ask.”

He raises an eyebrow. “One of those guardian angel moments?” he replies sarcastically.

I ignore his tone and inquire, “When is your shift done?”

“I’m actually due to leave in the next ten minutes, Mr. Puzo. You were my last table this evening.”

I motion to the huddled figure in the window of the diner across the street. “Please make sure she eats something. You can keep the change after settling my bill here and making sure she doesn’t starve. I’ve seen that kid do nothing but nurse that cup of coffee for over an hour.”

He gives me a look after confirming that I meant the platinum blonde clutching her head. I nod.

Jerry gives me a particularly shit-eating grin and chirps, “Sure thing, Mr. Puzo! I’ll just bring you your coffee before I leave.”

Jerry is used to me doing this on occasion, but it’s almost never a woman. I interlace my fingers together and rest them against my chin, deep in thought. I feel bad for her, but my gut tells me that it’s too dangerous for me to get close to anyone. If they’re not ready for the seedy underbelly New York has to offer, they tend to not stick around. It’s better to just keep them from hitting bottom when it can be helped.

Jerry returns, bringing me my coffee and a side of heavy cream. Their coffee here is usually fine enough to drink straight, so I wave off the cream and keep watching the window. Not long after, the waiter for my table is making his way over to the diner in his street clothes and heads straight for the service counter. I see some chatter back and forth between Jerry and the line cook and some pointing at Miss Colvin. Jerry then exits the diner and waves at me. I raise my coffee cup towards him and nod. The line cook brings her a large fluffy waffle and some fruit. She looks up when the food arrives and starts gesturing wildly. The line cook shrugs and returns behind the counter. She looks around again and digs in. I finish my coffee and get up from the table. 

I take a quick trip to the mens’ to make sure my layers are in place. When you have a reputation to uphold, it helps to look the part, to take care in your appearance. I don’t consider myself vain, necessarily. Just that I need to look the part. As I exit Manny Wolf’s, I grab my overcoat from the attendant and fish out my gloves from the pocket. I open my umbrella and hold it overhead and start walking down the street. I sneak a peek at the diner window across the street again and see she’s put on her coat and is gathering her papers into her notebook as she ties it up. I stop walking and take notice that she has no umbrella. Miss Colvin hugs her notebook to her chest before wrapping her coat tightly over the bundle in a vain attempt to keep it protected from the weather. Her coat is a thin jacket that adds little warmth. She clearly didn’t expect the rain, and yet she works for the newspaper. I guess that's not her department. In any case, I can’t leave her like that.

I see there’s no cars coming and I cross the street.

“Where’s your umbrella, kid?” I’m hoping she doesn’t recognize me. She doesn’t even look at me.

“Oh.. I don’t have one. My place was ransacked and the cops were no help. Someone stole some notes and a few things.” Her voice sounds tired. And she starts walking briskly.

“How about I walk you home?” I quicken my pace and try to keep the umbrella over her head.

“No thanks, I don’t take help from strange men I don’t know.” She increases her speed. Her words initially feel like a slap to the face, but I realize she’s just trying to protect herself. I’m just some strange man trying to follow her. Someone who keeps their guard up is more likely to keep going.

I call out, “At least take my umbrella. I can catch a cab.” She stops. I grab the top finial on the umbrella and point the handle towards her. I feel her grab the umbrella.

She reluctantly takes the umbrella and holds it overhead. She manages a, “Thanks. How should I return this to you?” She’s again facing away from me.

“No need, you can keep it. I have plenty back at home.” It’s not entirely a lie. I’ll have to remind Carmine to take me shopping for a replacement.

She turns, and a flicker of recognition dances across her hazel eyes. “Well, I’ll find a way to return the favor regardless. It’s not right to take something for nothing.” She tucks her wet hair behind her ears and resumes her brisk pace. Poor kid.

I look for a phone booth and call Carmine. I tell him I changed my mind and I’d like him to pick me up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The price of his princely fare: a one pound steak (2.25), jullienned potatoes(0.35), Manhattan Clam Chowder (0.25) and a cup of coffee (0.15) at Manny Wolf’s Chop House. If Vitto got a bottle of their House red, it would have been 3.00. A Waffle and cup of fruit at the diner would have been under two dollars. Back in a world where pennies used to have actual value. Imagine that.
> 
>  _enormemente apprezzato_ \- greatly appreciated
> 
> Beta work by VerdiWithin, to whom I am grateful for her inspiration
> 
> edit: 10-8-2020
> 
> 2nd Round Beta: Red, VerdiWithin


	4. Chapter 4

That flicker of recognition sticks with me all evening. Miss Colvin is less a mouse, and becoming more a sparrow, flitting through my thoughts.

I wait for Carmine to pull around near the phone booth. I turn my collar up in a vain attempt to keep more rain water from getting in my suit. I tell him to take us to the Valencia Theatre. We drive in complete silence, and I use the time to look out the window and let my mind wander. 

It's strange. Miss Colvin doesn't have the traditional allure of some movie starlet. But I can't get her face out of my mind after seeing that tiny spark. Outside of the Family business, you benefit from not being recognized, much less by a member of the press. Something inside me wonders why I want her to know me.

This something distracts me as we pull up to the Valencia. We see that the movie house is closed to make preparations for the big movie premiere tomorrow night. Our only option is to look around for alternative entrances. As I turn the corner I remember exactly why I keep thinking about her.

It wasn’t very long after our accidental meeting in the Metropolitan Hospital. It was the next evening, in fact. After her explosive article went to print. There was some big press event here, with lots of newspaper editors and a few guys like me. I don’t have any money in the newspaper business, but I attend these all the same since they’re a good way to find out about public interest, and if those interests sniff a little too close to business. Juliano is always at these, bumping elbows with a half dozen rags. His buddy is a member of the New York City Council, a Mr. Steve Harris. It almost hurts with how typical it is for politicians to only show up during an election year. 

I walk with Carmine around the Valencia, but I don't always hear what he's saying because my mind is trying to dig up what happened that night. Then it comes back to me in waves, and the actual world fades away for a bit.

_I’m sitting in the corner on a leather upholstered wingback chair near a similarly suited couch, nursing a thunderbolt cocktail. It’s three different types of liquor, muddled together with some vigorous shaking with ice and strained smooth. My mind was still on Stella sitting in a disgusting hospital bed because she still wanted to be entitled. Getting inebriated efficiently was my solution to that problem. Juliano interrupts my peace by bringing over his new toy, Darya. He can’t keep his hands off of her. Must be this week’s Bird from Mrs. Molly’s Sparrow Room. He tightens his grip on her waist when he sees me._

_“Vitto, you like my new girl?”_

_Juliano relishes the lifestyle that being part of “Our Thing” provides. As someone who only recently got into good money, he enjoys flashy displays of cars, movies, and women. Any way to keep his ugly mug as the center of attention. He blows the smoke from his cigar into my face._

_Annoyed at the aerosol onslaught, I quip, “Frank, how long do you think you’re keeping this one? Any longer than you change your cassetti?”_

_He prefers everyone to call him Frank instead of “Francisco” because he’s about embracing all aspects of the new American Lifestyle, including nicknames. But it makes the insults stick so much sweeter. I see him growl at me in reply and he pushes Darya to the couch. Darya looks uncomfortable, and scoots away from Juliano on the couch while he seethes and stares into the center of the room. I smirk into my glass and look back over to the social circle Juliano left._

_There’s a few jokes and the same old bullshitting every politician does at campaign stops. Harris never turns off his folksy persona. However, the lively chatter in their circle dies down when someone asks Councilman Harris for his thoughts about the Jessica Taylor article. Harris firmly asks for a change of topic. A few more questions pepper the conversation until Harris leaves the circle, looking for Juliano. Juliano snaps out of his tantrum and beckons Harris to come over to our corner._

_“Frank. Too many questions are getting asked about that girl’s article.” Harris starts sweating, and looks more like a spooked horse._

_“Yeah, I heard about it from Mr. Burke. Apparently she’s an intern.”_

_“C-can you do something about it, Frank? You know how much my image means to me. I can’t let Charlie know about any of this--”_

_Oh right, that’s what catapulted him into the City Council in the first place. His daughter Charlotte Harris flew across the Atlantic. She credited her loving, caring father for urging her on. His whole public persona is loving dad. Though no one seems to ask any questions about where his money came from beforehand._

_“B-between this and the foundation. This would kill her.”_

_Juliano claps his hand on Harris’s shoulder and puts his cigar back into his mouth and smiles._

_“Don’t you worry about a thing, Stevey. I’ll have a chat with Mr. Burke and see if he can wiggle her loose. I think his chief editor is around here, too.”_

_Harris doesn’t look convinced._

_“Frank...what if she just gets another job somewhere else and keeps digging?”_

_Juliano flashes his pearly white teeth at Harris and reaches for Darya. Patting the couch, he notices Darya is out of reach, and turns to still see me drinking at the chair nearby._

_“Vitto, do you mind? This is private business.”_

_I toast my departure with my near-empty glass in acknowledgement. I drain it and set it down on the coffee table between us and excuse myself. I’m feeling the need for a cigarette, and maybe a nice walk before going home for the night. I walk until there’s not a soul in sight and I find an ashcan near a streetlamp. I pull out the cigarette and take a deep drag off the burning wand. I knew about their chummy behavior, but I didn’t know Harris was connected to the Hospital and the crazy woman who died. I savor the cigarette because I only like smoking them outdoors. I have never understood the appeal of smelling like an ashtray at all times._

Carmine asks me if I heard what he said.

"No, sorry, could you repeat that?"

"Boss, there's only one back entrance here. It's a potential bottleneck situation if we're needing to leave quickly, our only options are the front door and the back door," Carmine sighs. "Boss, should we just check in with Nino, since he's the one who usually goes to the movies?"

That's not a terrible suggestion. I still don't remember what else happened that evening, I wonder how many more drinks I had than the one thunderbolt…

As we get back to my car, I look out as a familiar ashcan and the memory washes over me again.

I hear the clicks of ladies’ heels coming down the sidewalk opposite me. She looks frightened, like she’s seen a ghost. She turns frantically, and sees me, the only guy on the street. She sprints towards me and her face looks very familiar to me. She stops just short of me, and clenches her fist as if to center herself. 

“Please sir! There is a strange person following me! Please help me!” 

I can’t hide my annoyance at being disturbed from my cigarette break. 

She continues, “I’m sorry, sir. But I don’t have any other options. Please help me!”

As I hear approaching footsteps from where she first appeared it hits me. Now I remember where I’ve seen her. This is the “nurse” from yesterday. Interesting. I smile at her. It looks like she did get in over her head. Maybe this experience will be enough to scare her straight, and I’m a sucker for being a hero when possible. I look at her face and catch some movement out of the corner of my eye. I whisper to her to follow my lead. I take her purse and straighten her shawl, so she didn’t look like she was running at top speed. I wrap my arm around her shoulder and pull her close to me. The footsteps slow and I recognize the man from the press party as being one of Juliano’s boys. Time to put on a show.

“Calm down, my dear. I won’t leave you all alone.” I wink at her and stub out my cigarette in the ashcan.

She takes my hint and replies, “ I-I...I know! But I missed you so!” I keep smiling even though she’s laying it on a bit thick. We keep walking until we turn the corner to my car. I don’t hear any more footsteps, so we must have lost him. I notice her steps are tiny, like someone who isn’t used to walking in heels, let alone running in them. I feel sorry for the poor kid. I open the passenger side door.

“Get in.”

She hesitates, thinking that she made a mistake in seeking my help. I think of a way to remind her she can trust me.

“Aren’t your feet tired, nurse?”

Her eyes light up and she recognizes me from the Hospital. The tension she was holding in her shoulders immediately releases as she breathes a sigh of relief. She climbs into the car. I shut the door and proceed to the driver’s side. It’s rare that I don’t have Carmine driving me, but sometimes I enjoy driving late at night and I expected to be out late.

“Oww… My feet hurt.” She’s already taken off her shoes and starts massaging her feet.

“Where do you live?” I pull away from the curb and start driving toward the intersection.

She thinks before replying, “Drop me off at the park near Wilson Avenue, in Queens.”  
I snort. She almost got killed back there. I’m familiar with Juliano’s style.

“It’s not safe for a young lady to be wandering the streets alone at night -- or do you want to be the subject of tomorrow’s headlines?” I’m a little harsh, but I want to be understood in my meaning. And for instruction to be obeyed.

She stammers out, “I live near the park…it should be safe.” She sounds unsure, but she’s also tensing up again.

I shake my head and say, “Suit yourself.” We drive in silence until we reach the park. I shift the car into park.

She puts her shoes back on again and opens the door herself. 

“Thank you for the ride! I’m Elizabeth Colvin. It was a pleasure meeting you,” she says politely.

Without thinking, I reply, “Vittorio Puzo. Well met.” Ah shit. Social niceties biting me in my ass. My lack of water after the liquor is starting to bring on a headache. I need to get out of here.

She isn’t moving. The longer she hangs around the more likely someone else is to find her. I brusquely say, “Go home. I’m leaving.”

I reach over to pull the door closed. She knocks on the window. I roll it down, still annoyed at her persistence.

“Thank you once again! I wouldn’t have escaped that mugger if not for you!”

She didn’t understand why her life was in danger. Better set that straight before driving back out of her life. 

“That wasn’t a mugger, Miss Nurse.”

I roll up the window and drive away.

When I get home, I don't bother pouring the liquor into a glass. 

Guess I must be a softie at heart. I was still reeling from Stella not learning her lesson and making a decision to stop my visits for a month. And now I regret leaving her in harm's way -- how can I still claim to care for her well-being? Maybe I ought to send her back overseas...

And it’s so funny that Miss Colvin keeps crossing my path. What a strange woman. I’m not surprised that she didn’t register the first few times. How many kids move to the city without any idea of how the world works? How many of them disappear? I thought I was just scaring a reporter out of the underworld.

Carmine breaks me out of my reminiscing by announcing our arrival back at my brownstone in Queens.

"Nice nap back there, Boss?"

I laugh, "You got me. How about we order in and get Nino and some of his boys over here and we'll cement our plans for tomorrow? My treat."

I hand Carmine a wad of cash to pick up dinner and drinks.

Carmine offers, "I'll go pick them up on the way back boss."

I nod as the black sedan pulls away from the curb.

As long as tomorrow goes smoothly, I can get my head right again. _Magari_..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta work by heliosalpha and VerdiWithin. Thank you for making me do the work :3
> 
> Notes:  
> *Thunderbolt Cocktail  
> 1 Gin  
> 1 Brandy  
> 1 Whiskey  
> Ice.--30 Shakes. Strain and serve.  
>  _Magari_ \- Italian slang - If only...
> 
> Edit: 10-8-2020
> 
> 2nd Round Beta: Red and VerdiWithin  
> From Burke's Complete Cocktail & Drinking Recipes with Recipes for the Cocktail Hour. Neat real cocktail.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Hey this chapter gets a bit ugly! If descriptions of violence and wounds ain’t your thing, look for the ***** before the paragraph to skip

Everyone is abuzz with various reasons to be excited for tonight: Nino didn’t get to keep the height of his building, so this is a very petty “revenge” for him; The others are jazzed about getting to watch the new talkie, Morning Glory. I guess as long as they’re happy, makes them easier to manage. I'm eager to knock Juliano's ugly mug down a peg.

We didn’t have long to prepare, but since this operation is about taking out one person, we can use our limited manpower to seize our primary target. We want Gino. He’s the accountant for the Tiger Charity Foundation that councilman Harris runs, and the Metropolitan Hospital is one of their beneficiaries. Gino never misses an opportunity to schmooze with anyone who has the barest traces of belonging to Hollywood. 

For our goals, cutting off the money into the hospital would lead them to scramble for a bit, allowing for another opportunity to fill the void. Anyone else taken out is a bonus.

We only had time to get one car prepared. Nino and his boys will go in to watch the showing while I wait outside near some planters. I have on a grey, plaid cap and I skipped my daily shave to help me blend in with Nino's boys. I'm still wearing my summer wool suit because if this ends up being a fools' errand, I will at least look good at the funeral.

Honestly, I’m indifferent to watching the film. Daisy Collins -- the star of the film -- is the local favorite, attending a premiere in her old neighborhood. And since I was so distracted last night and didn’t do my usual prep work, I'm watching the people coming in through the door to get an idea of who’ll be in attendance. Part of the reason why I don't often have to buy loyalty is owning up to my mistakes, and doing my best to fix them.

A flashy car pulls up, and out steps Miss Colvin wearing a golden dress with ruffles around the top and a sheer piece of embroidered silk adorned with silvery flowers draped across her torso. Her platinum blonde hair is styled in finger waves that frame her face. These new dresses don't leave much to the imagination with how the metallic satin hugs her form. 

Given yesterday’s trip down memory lane, I should have seen this coming. She keeps putting herself in the way of danger unnecessarily. I don’t like where this is going.

She waits for a young man with strawberry blonde hair who appears to be her date. Upon further observation, they look more like work friends than a young couple.

I release the tension I didn’t realize I had in my jaw. I’m also feeling a little self conscious about ogling Miss Colvin. I try to tell myself it’s so I can spot her later, but I know that’s flimsy justification. I am concerned for her safety, regardless of how lovely she’s looking tonight. Guess I’ll be watching this film after all. 

I present my ticket to the door attendant and walk inside. 

I go to the bar to grab a drink -- I just get a seltzer with a slice of lime to blend in with the crowd. Scanning the room, I don’t see Juliano here...but his boy Alvaro is here with our intended target. I see a few members of Alvaro’s crew, but it doesn’t look like they’re expecting anything of note to happen tonight. They're knocking back some shots at the bar and chatting up their dates. Miss Colvin and her colleague are talking to Daisy Collins. He and Daisy are flirting heavily with one another, to Miss Colvin’s annoyance. 

The house lights flash, the silent indication that it was time for everyone to find their seats.

I pull the newscap over my head and file into the theatre with the rest of the crowd. Once we're all seated, the lights dim and the black-and-white film begins to play.

It's a story about a wealthy dilettante who falls for a two-timing sleazebag. He plans to murder her for her money. Strangely, Mrs. Molly and Juliano spring to mind. This story is not unlike how they met, or how the Sparrow Room got its start. I wonder who wrote this script.

After the movie, I see Nino send some of his boys out into the lobby while he and a few others stay behind to watch Gino and Alvaro. I take this opportunity to also go out into the lobby to blend in with the crowd. I see Miss Colvin and her colleague - I catch his name as simply “Davis” - heading to a door leading backstage. 

I’ll have to trust that they’ll be ok.

It’s not long after that I start hearing gunshots from the auditorium. The lobby turns into a chaotic mess, with bystanders screaming and fleeing from the scene. The ones who aren’t moving draw their guns and start looking around. I initially try to merge with the crowd of bodies exiting the building until I spot one of the goons heading toward that backstage door. My heart drops unexpectedly and I turn around to tail him instead. Once in the hallway, I cover his mouth with my gloved hand and press the tip of the barrel against his temple. 

****

Having the advantage of surprise, I’m able to shoot quickly. His body starts to go limp and I let go. He stumbles and only manages to shoot a bullet into the hallway wallpaper before collapsing, blood oozing out of both temples. I take the handkerchief out of the dead goon’s jacket pocket to wipe the blood off my gun. I put his handkerchief in my pocket and step over his body to wait at the side of the door.

Another figure busts through and I pistol whip him, striking the barrel of the gun at his head sharply. He’s out cold. I maneuver his body to close the door, and then prop him against it, just to give me more time should someone else come down this hallway.

****

I’m hoping that my one shot was lost in the chaos and I proceed down the hallway. I see Miss Colvin exit a dressing room and Davis going in after. Footsteps behind me, followed by a loud shriek, catch my attention. I turn and it looks like the people who were attending Daisy in the lobby before the movie. I let them pass. The hail of gunfire sounding from the lobby increases in intensity. Without thinking I grab Miss Colvin and hide around the corner where the hallway splits, waiting and hoping for the noise to die down.

"Oh, Mr. -- Mnnf!" My hand clamps over her mouth, cutting her off.

"Hush, _uccellina..._ "

The first thing that grabs my attention is her perfume. Delicate and floral, it smells of jasmine? Roses? I can't quite place it, but it smells like home. I could feel her pulse through my thin leather gloves where my palm grazes her vein. My gloves feel like they’re burning off my palm and her heart is beating rapidly. 

Understandable since we are in the middle of a gunfight. 

While I crane my head around the corner, the little sparrow wriggles under my hold and chirps out “I have somewhere we can hide.” She puts her hand over mine and continues, "I can take you there but you'd have to let go of me first."

I reluctantly release my hold on her and reply, "Lead the way, Miss Colvin." 

I catch the subtle change in her body language that shows she is surprised I remember her name. Now that I remember our second meeting, I know why she has trouble deciphering my intentions.

Gunshots continue to pepper the walls of the next room, and Miss Colvin leads me up a set of stairs to the projection booth.

It looks like she kept her word about returning the favor. It's a good vantage point, and no one thinks of looking up here. I glance out the window to track where the shooting started. Looks like we bagged Gino, but Alvaro is nowhere to be found. Other than another few lifeless bodies, the theatre itself is deserted. The noise from the ongoing firefight in the lobby continues to ping, but it's muffled compared to before.

Elizabeth breaks the silence softly. "The projectionist has to crank the machine throughout the film. Though we only have black-and-white films now."

What the hell is she thinking? I try motioning behind me to indicate she needs to be quiet, but she continues talking.

"Once the technology that allows for color films is invented, they won't have to manually crank the projector anymore."

Okay, color films? No manual cranks? Poor kid must be a bundle of nerves. 

Sigh, I turn around and reply in hushed tones, "This is a critical situation, Miss Colvin. I'd appreciate it if you could pause your little lesson on film technology. I need to pay attention to what's happening."

"Sorry, I just wanted to make it less awkward…" She shrinks and looks down at her shoes. "I'll be quiet."

I press my palm to my forehead and sigh, even though I’m pleased she did as I said. I didn't mean to make her feel bad, but she was distracting enough without speaking.

I listen intently and after a while there is an eerie silence. I cross back over to the door, opening it just a crack. I peek through and see no one coming.

In a hushed tone, I say back to her, "I'm gonna check outside. Stay here, Miss Colvin."

She's a bit fidgety, but remains quiet.

I slip through the narrow opening and quietly tread up and down the hallway. I don't see anyone nearby, and there's no bodies up here. I tiptoe over to the edge of the stairs and pick out Nino's voice among the rising murmurs.

I peek back into the room at a visibly nervous Miss Colvin. She meets my gaze and sighs in relief.

"Seems to have calmed down, but it's probably not safe here. We should go."

She nods and follows me. She's initially shocked by the bullet holes in the wall but regains her composure. Unbelievably she also decides to whip out her notebook and start writing. I inwardly laugh at her dedicatedly focused mind.

I tease her, "I admire your professionalism, Miss Colvin...but your life is in danger. Shouldn't safety be your priority?"

She replies pointedly without looking up, "I understand. Thank you, Mr. Puzo." She's a little annoyed with me. I guess I'd be annoyed with me, too.

I gently tap her arm, a little annoyed I must do so to get her attention.

"I should be the one thanking you. You saved my life."

She stops writing. I continue.

"I know it's your job, but you must understand. Some things are not meant to be reported."

Miss Colvin eyes me quizzically.

"If you want to keep reporting news, you must first stay alive."

I reach into my blazer's internal pocket and pull out my cigarette case. I hand her one of my cards for the construction company office.

"Here's my business card. Give me a call if you need any help."

She places it inside her notebook, and after tying it together she drops the bundle back into her purse. She looks back up at me. I look into her eyes, that hazel color that seems to change every so often. I didn’t realize I was leaning toward her until I felt her hand come to press against my upper arm.

Our moment is interrupted by Nino jogging over to me, exclaiming "Boss, the spring cleaning is done!" Nino turns to my guest and breaks into a wide smile, saying, "Miss Colvin! Why are you with the boss?" 

At this, Nino gives me a suggestive look. I glare in response as I pull away.

Miss Colvin replies hesitantly, "We...we just happened to run into each other."

Nino turns back to her. "It's dangerous, why don't you come with us?" He looks back in my direction.

Miss Colvin softly replies, "Sorry for the trouble." She seems like she's a bit embarrassed by the whole ordeal now.

I look at Nino and tell him firmly, "Send Miss Colvin home and get me afterwards." She tries to protest, but Nino offers her his arm and escorts her out the door.

Wondering if there's any other bystanders still hanging around. I scan the room and see a disheveled Davis, leaving from the back hallway. I wonder what he was doing this whole time. He looks around and doesn't see Miss Colvin.

Nino walks back in saying, "Miss Colvin said she met a colleague and left with him, but she didn't have anybody out there, Boss. She's still on the sidewalk."

I motion over to Davis. Nino makes a knowing "o" shape with his mouth and gently directs Mr. Davis outdoors. Nino returns and we double check our count on the bodies. Looks like most of our boys took off on foot. There's bullet holes peppered in the walls everywhere.

We find Jacob, one of Nino's newer recruits, in the box office with half of his shirt torn off. Tied around his arm is a wet slip of red fabric. We get him upright and find his blazer under the door debris. We struggle to get his jacket back on over him as we stumble with him out into the lobby. Hoping we can pass him off as being passed out drunk and no one looks too closely.

We hear the distant sound of sirens and hurry out the back door where our car is waiting. As we drive away, I scan the sidewalks for Miss Colvin and her colleague. I don't see them or the flashy car, so I figure they must have gone home. 

I broodily stare out the window as everyone else is comparing notes and recounting the various standoffs they had. I smack my lips and feel the pangs of thirst grasping my throat. _Mio Dio_ , I need a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta work by VerdiWithin and astroAntagonist
> 
>  _uccellina_ \- little bird  
>  _Mio Dio_ \- My God
> 
> Edit: 10-8-2020
> 
> 2nd Round Beta: Red and VerdiWithin


	6. Chapter 6

I wake up to the feeling that my head is about to split in two. I'm asleep by the fireplace, alone. I slowly get to my feet and drag myself to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. I see the collection of morning papers in the hall table basket. Carmine must have brought them in when he saw I was still passed out on the floor.

The papers all have a field day with last night's little shindig. I lazily finger through the stack, but there's only one paper I care about at the moment.

I reach for the _Gotham Times_ and below the fold is a perfectly normal interview with Daisy Collins about her new talkie that premiered last night. I flip the paper over and on the back cover is the coverage of the premiere shooting. There's no mention of me, or what the shooting was about. It mentions what one should do in a shooting situation, and how best to avoid danger. It's all very...practical.

I slump down in my study chair, dragging my hands down my face. That was too close.  
My head throbs from last night's little after-party back at the Villa.

_Mi sento una merda._

I drag myself out of my chair to go to the bathroom on the upper floor to grab another glass of water. I look at my haggard reflection in the mirror. Soot marks my face from where I was lying on the floor, and yesterday's five o'clock shadow has progressed a few more hours.

_I look like shit._

I drain the glass. Time to put myself back together. I pull out a metal bowl that has my shaving brush and lathering bar. I wet the brush and start stroking it over the bar to build a foamy lather. I paint it onto my face along my stubble. I unfold my straight razor, and stroke it along the strop hooked under the counter. What can I say? I'm old fashioned and I still don't trust the new safety razors. Straight razors give me a much cleaner shave and it’s calming, despite - or perhaps because of - the naked blade near my throat. Shaving is meditative, and as much as my head is throbbing from dehydration, I start to feel a little more like myself. 

I wet my towel and mop away the excess shaving cream from my face. I look into the mirror and see the man I usually present to the world. Intense brown eyes, aquiline nose, and a diamond shaped jaw framed by a strong brow stare back at me. I see the face of my father when he was set on bringing us here from Sicily. My reflection feels like it's staring into my soul.

Mrs. Molly says she always has girls asking after me whenever I visit the Sparrow Room. That I remind her of an eagle, a big bird of prey. If I went through women as fast as Juliano did, maybe that'd be an accurate metaphorical description. But, it’s the wrong animal for me.

I wonder what Miss Colvin sees when she looks at me. Does she also only see a predator, or could I be safety, for her? 

I'm so used to walking this path alone, that's what I keep telling myself. I can't afford to put anyone else in danger. The people who are close to me only make themselves into targets.  
The only people allowed to stay near me these days are all able to protect themselves.

I strip off the rest of yesterday's duds and put them into the laundry bin for the cleaning girl to take care of. Having a shower is a relatively new luxury, and it's one of my favorite places to think, besides watching the fire and drinking. I twist the tap and a glorious stream of hot water comes pouring out.

I step into the shower and see the water at my feet turn back with the soot from my face and hands. I find myself thinking about Miss Colvin and her exquisite dress last night. The fashion now has been these hip hugging dresses. They accentuate and suggest the beautiful bodies hiding beneath the fabric. I remember the feel of her fluttering heart when I held her against my body, hiding from the gunfire. Her cute babbling about projectors. And her determination to get something out of what should be a harrowing experience. I take advantage of the relaxing, relentless flow of hot water to release all of my tension.

\----

After my shower I get dressed in a light wool single breasted summer suit with a freshly pressed white shirt. I think my shoulders look broad enough without an extra column of buttons. I leave the jacket off for now since I'm at home, but I wear the vest. I clip my chatelaine holding my pocket watch and a house key to my vest and tuck the other items away. The decorative crown shaped fob the previous boss passed to me hangs from the remaining chain. A red silk tie finishes my look and I fix it into place with my silver bar clip. I check myself in the mirror on my wardrobe to see if I've forgotten anything. As I go to grab my gloves, I spot my cufflinks and grab them instead.

My headache has finally left my skull, so I refill my glass with water and take another big swig. Passing by the hall basket again, I grab the same paper as before. Flipping through the rest of the Gotham Times, I catch an article about the ongoing labor disputes at a local clothing factory. It briefly mentions a name I didn't expect to see: Rio Rossi. Mr. Rossi was a capo for Juliano, but I thought he turned straight a few years ago. This bum is the union president. I wrinkle my nose in thought. Something fishy is going on there. 

As if on cue, the hall phone rings. I answer it.

"Mr. Puzo, it's Elizabeth Colvin. I am sorry for the sudden call."

My heart skips a beat. I try to ignore it. "...Miss Colvin, What's the matter?"

"I need to ask for your help... it's a tricky problem and you're the only one I could think of."

I feel a bit sad this isn't a social call. Let's attempt to keep this strictly business. "I remember offering my help before. Just speak."

"It's complicated, I may need to talk about it in person."

I see an opportunity and I offer, "May I have the honor of your company for dinner tomorrow?'

"Thank you, Mr. Puzo," she replies with noticeable relief.

"It's too early to thank me. I'll send someone to pick you up tomorrow around 7."

"Sorry for the trouble." There she goes again saying that. I remember her downcast look last evening.

"It's only polite. See you tomorrow Miss Colvin." I hang up the phone. 

I realize I'm not entirely sure where she lives. I recall the park I dropped her off at was not quite in Queens, and I think Miss Colvin was playing coy. I go to my study and pull out a map to look at where I dropped her that night. I know reporters aren't famous for a particularly luxe lifestyle.  
I definitely didn’t drop her at the cemetery belt. That’s a place that to non-locals looks like a lush green park with rolling hills. I trace my finger along Wilson Ave until I see Irving Square Park. Ahh, this is more like it. This park is surrounded by brownstones. She likely has a room she is renting from someone here. I dial up Nino’s number and tell him to look around Irving Square Park to see where Miss Colvin lives. I’m curious about the trouble she mentioned, and the strange inclusion of an article on Rossi doesn’t feel like a coincidence. 

I hang up on Nino by toggling the plunger on the phone and start dialing Leonardo’s upstate number.

“Hello, Columbo residence.” A feminine voice, older. Must be his mother.

“Yes, I’m trying to reach Leo.”

“Oh! He said he was expecting a phone call any day now for his project to start again. I’ll get him for you.”

It’s better that she doesn’t know exactly what her boy is up to.

“Hey Boss, what’s up?” answers Leonardo.

“What can you tell me about Rio Rossi these days?”

Leonardo clears his throat. “Maybe you ought to come up for a visit. Ma’s cooking for an army and there’s only me here.” Must be something he doesn’t want to talk about over the phone.

“Where should I meet you?”

“Frear Park, and I’ll walk you over to Ma’s.”

I hang up the receiver and leave a note for Carmine, letting him know I will be taking one of my cars for a spin today and not to expect me back for a while. I go back to my room to finish getting ready. I put on a holster for my revolver, put on my jacket, pull on some gloves, and pat my leg for my wallet. Last step is my overcoat Satisfied with my appearance and my prep, I grab the keys off the hook and go to my car. It’s time to check in with Leonardo.

\---

The drive up to Troy is uneventful. It’s a nice day to be driving with the windows down and enjoying the breeze that rolls in while taking in the scenery. I park along the street near Frear Park. It’s a small golf course. I chuckle at Leonardo’s sense of humor. After rolling up my windows, I lock the car and start walking toward the edge of the park, where it meets Oakwood Avenue, and I spot Leonardo. He leads me down a side street to a modest white home. I follow him inside to a feast of _pasta con le sarde, caponata_ , breaded veal cutlets, and _pesto alla trapanese_ with some fresh bread. He wasn’t kidding. Leonardo and I have been close for a long time, due to our shared Sicilian roots. His ma takes our coats and motions for both of us to sit down and eat.

Leonardo is the first to speak. “You know how Rossi said he quit the business after Prohibition ended?” I nod. He continues, “Rossi is actually working for Juliano now. He’s still watching some alcohol trades at night through the factory he’s a union president at. I’ve had to be there a few times, but not often. Even though alcohol is legal, there’s still plenty of money to be made evading the feds on the tax front. I suspect that not every transaction has to do with booze though.”

That tracks with why there’s such a boringly weird article in the _Gotham Times_. "Why do you suspect that?”

“You know that article about the crazy broad? She died only a few days after. Some reporter lady snuck into the factory one of the nights I was off and got caught by Rossi. Apparently she said she was trying to find a car. I know Rossi has made the occasional trip to the Metro Hospital for cleaning duties. He escorted her off the property himself in his car.”

I slow my chewing. What has Miss Colvin gotten herself into? This has to be part of the trouble. Rossi has a mean streak and lots of connections. I motion to Leonardo to continue.

“Rossi’s apparently sitting on something Juliano wants to keep quiet. And it’s part of his hospital trips. He’s the one who found out Stella was in the Metro when he went there for one of his cleaning shifts.”

“Any idea what?”

“Something to do with that crazy Jessica’s father. He was a cop. He was in too deep.”

“Thank your mother for the lovely meal. You can head back into town at your leisure. Just make sure your Ma tells anyone who calls how attentive you’ve been to her health.”

Leonardo nods. I exit the house and walk the few blocks’ distance back to my car. I’m grateful for the drive home because it gives me time to digest the meal and the new information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta work from the incomparable VerdiWithin
> 
> I will update this with food descriptions, they had trouble pasting. All foods mentioned are local to Sicily in general, and I made myself hungry.
> 
>  _Mi sento una merda._ \- I feel like shit (formal)
> 
> Edit: 10-8-2020
> 
> 2nd Round Beta: Red and VerdiWithin


	7. Chapter 7

I pull up to my brownstone and park my car. Carmine is waiting for me. I hand him the keys.

"Nino's waiting inside for you, Boss."

I nod and open the front door. Nino is indeed waiting for me, on the couch by the fireplace listening to a jazz record. He doesn't acknowledge me, as he is lost in the music. I walk over to the record player and lift the needle. Nino snaps to attention.

"Did you manage to find where she lives?"

"Yeah, Boss. She's right off of the park on Weirfield Street. Number 267. I spotted her work 'colleague' dropping her off in another fancy car." Nino gestures some quotation marks with his fingers when describing Miss Colvin's work friend. 

I raise an eyebrow at Nino.

"Well, I dunno, Boss. He seems to be chummier with her now more than before." He shrugs. "It's just my intuition speakin'."

I straighten my tie aggressively. "I'll be picking up Miss Colvin myself tomorrow."

Nino laughs at me. "Boss, you know it's safer for you to be at the restaurant ahead of her. Didn't you say she was in trouble and that's why she called?"

He's right -- what was I thinking? This feeling of anger pulsing through my veins. I don't remember having felt like this in a long time.  
It’s hard to hide emotions from the people who know you best. What good is being a closed book if they can open you up by yanking on the bookmark? 

Nino's laugh subsides. "I think all the boys could tell after our little get together at the Valencia. You were gone for a while and didn't reappear until later with Miss Colvin in tow."

My ears are burning in embarrassment. It's no use, I know exactly what it looks like. I start to protest, and realize it's absolutely no use. Nino grins and slaps me on the shoulder as I grit my teeth.

"It's okay to like women, Boss." Nino starts laughing uncontrollably.

"Nino, shouldn't you be getting some beauty rest, or do I need to knock you out?" 

He clears his throat, "Right. Sorry Mr. Puzo." I hear the sarcasm in his voice and my arm involuntarily raises to slap him upside the head -- but I stop myself. I'm tired. It's late. Nino flinches anyway.

"Just pick her up on time, Nino. We're going to Vesuvio. And right now, I'm going to bed. I spent most of my day driving."

Nino nods and looks apologetically at me. "Sorry for takin' the mickey outta you, Boss. Just wanted to joke around since you're so serious all the time. It wouldn't kill you to lighten up a little bit."

He's not wrong, but the way internal politics in our business are working… I feel on edge with all these juggling balls in the air in addition to worrying about Miss Colvin. Something bothered me, because Nino keeps an eye on Rossi too, and hasn't mentioned any of what Leonardo discussed with me.

"Nino, have you heard that Rossi is still in our line of work?"

The question catches him off guard and he flinches and starts sweating.

" _Dannazione_ Nino, what did you get into?"

"Boss, I was keepin' an eye on him like you said, but I was trying to keep the restaurants running well, and his offer was good to keep our costs low…"

I'm not in the mood, especially after his earlier teasing. I can feel my jaw lock up.

"Nino. What did I tell you after they repealed Prohibition?"

"That we were going to transition those into legit businesses."

"So you ignored me because you thought it would make you a couple more bucks?!" I clench my teeth in anger. " _The only thing_ , the only thing the Feds care about Nino, is getting their cut. Capone didn't give them their cut. He got locked up. And you're expecting me to tolerate putting our entire operation under scrutiny to make one lousy week look good because you saved some money on restocking our bars?"

The intensity of my glare and words causes Nino to shrink in fear. While my reputation for being a made man with a heart of gold precedes me these days, I need to remind Nino why I'm still the head of this Family. I grab him by his necktie and start tightening the loop.

Nino struggles to get out, "I swear, it was just the one time! It won't happen again! One of the barrels was a bit weird so I made him take it back."

I tighten it again and he chokes out, "I can tell you somethin' that happened that night too!"

My hands loosen his tie a little, but I wrap the excess around my gloved hands and grip his lapels instead.

"That Miss Colvin was there too! She was dressed like that time she was with us at Sky Tower!"

"She was there the night Rossi escorted her home. What about it? This is not news to me, Nino." 

Realizing he's played his entire hand he slumps in my grip. I sigh.

"Look Nino, just don't do it again. You know what I'd rather be doing right now. We'll say you owe me a favor."

"...What kind of favor?"

I let go of his lapels and unwrap the length of his tie from my hands. I smooth out his jacket. "I haven't decided yet. Go home, Nino. I'll still have you pick up Miss Colvin tomorrow." 

Nino can't leave fast enough, and I'm left alone as the door creaks shut. At least tonight I'm awake enough to make it into my bed before passing out.

\---

I'm jolted awake the next morning because there's a lot of excited knocking at the door. I look out the window -- it's Nino with a white bakery box. 

I lean out the window in my undershirt and yell down at him, "Some of us are trying to get our beauty sleep!" Nino gets down on a knee and lifts the box above his head in offering. I grab my smoking jacket and head downstairs to let in the well-intentioned idiot.

"I bring you the offering of Veniero's butter cookies and sfogliatelle. I throw myself at your mercy." Nino falls to both knees in exaggerated prayer when I take the box from his outstretched hands.

I cross over to his rear and playfully kick him in the seat of his pants. "Get up, you bum. You've got better things to do than grovel at my feet."

Nino gets up mumbling something about me being no fun. 

"Why don't you go check on your boy Jake, since we're not breaking ground yet on any of the other construction projects. Just don't forget about picking up Miss Colvin at 7." I toss him the keys to the black sedan. Nino takes his leave.

Tentatively, I open the box from Veniero's. I take out a _sfogliatella_ and put it on a plate. I bite into the deliciously flaky pastry and savor the cream at the center. Despite the plate, eating it makes a huge mess on my smoking jacket. I take out a handkerchief from the inside pocket and brush the loose powdered sugar and pastry flakes from my garment with it, wiping my face before I put it into my outer pocket. Maybe Stella would like the butter cookies. She's still been quiet since I brought her home. I'll need to have someone check in on her other than the maids. I go into the kitchen and Carmine is fixing himself a coffee.

"Got anywhere you want me to go today, Boss?"

I hand him the Veniero's box. "Take these with you and please go check on Stella. You can have the lobster tail."

Carmine cracks open the thin cardboard lid to peek and smiles at me. "Anything else beyond that, Boss?"

"You can take the rest of today off. Just make sure Stella's not gone entirely catatonic."

"You want me to bring Susanna?" Susanna is like Carmine's younger sister. We pulled her out of the Sparrow Room. Maybe Stella needs a friend.

"Sure, why not? I'll see you tomorrow. I'll call you at the Villa if something comes up."

I see Carmine out and grab the morning papers to bring them in. Must be a slow news day, mostly coverage of Councilman Harris and his opponent, Sanders.

I look down at my still powdery clothes and check the clock in the hall. Not quite noon. I decide to take another shower and get myself together for later tonight. It's not a date, I remind myself. She said she's in trouble and just looking for help. I have a pretty good idea of what kind of help after talking to Leo and Nino.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta work by astroAntagonist and VerdiWithin.
> 
> Love a good man who is a good father.
> 
> (If I can correct the grammar of any Italian words I am borrowing in the story, please let me know. I only half remember Latin and know very very very little Italian.)
> 
>  _Dannazione_ \- slang - damn it  
>  _sfogliatelle_ \- Delicious flaky pastry filled with orange flavored ricotta. Regional variants have french cream in the US and are also called Lobster tails. Get them with powdered sugar.
> 
> Edit: 10-8-2020
> 
> 2nd Round Beta: Red, VerdiWithin


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Major spoilers ahead for the ends of chapter 2 in the Gotham Memoirs book

Sometimes you need a day where you take a rest and let the wheels of the world grind to a halt. Today, before dinner with Miss Colvin, was a let-everything-else-stop kind of day.

I get dressed after my shower, and elect to go for a grey vest and trousers over my usual white dress shirt and briefs. I then go to my sock drawer and select some thin wool dress socks. I only wear good socks and replace them as soon as they get holes. If you take care of your feet, you can keep moving. I know Nino will be outside, but wear my holster with my derringer in it. Just in case. It's the only paranoia that pays to indulge in.

The sun is just setting and the weather is perfect for a walk to Restaurant Vesuvio. The name is a bit silly since it invokes the eruption of a volcano of a similar name. Bodies frozen in ash aren't exactly an appetizing thought. We still have the basics here though. This is one of my smaller "touristy" venues. The dining area is small, but all of the shop windows can be opened to create open air seating. Makes it nice in the summer when it's sweltering outside. Today's temperature is blissfully cool, though, and the windows are closed.

I step inside to speak to the waiter, and it seems he has the corner table set up for me -- did I want to arrange the meal beforehand? They know me too well. I pick a few of their more popular crowd dishes, since I don't actually know her preferences, and figure if she has plenty of small choices, she'll eat something. I feel a familiar tickle in the back of my brain. 

_Oh_. I check the time on my pocket watch -- quarter til 7 -- enough time for a cigarette. I head outside, out of respect. I pull out my cigarette case, pop a cigarette in my mouth, and light up. I take a long breath in, and slowly exhale, watching the smoke dissipate as it leaves my lips. The maddening itch subsides, satisfied. These things are probably not good for the lungs, but damn if they aren't efficient. I tap the ash off the end and watch the sunset while I'm waiting.

While Brooklyn isn't as dense as Manhattan, there's still enough buildings crowded together that once the sun dips below them, only the colors remain before night washes over. The ash is almost near my fingers, so I take one last breath before dashing the embers to my feet. With a stomp and twist, I snuff them out. One last exhale and I watch the ashy vapor once again fade into the air.

I'm still a little edgy about tonight, but the nicotine has smoothed over my anxiety. Two honks break me out of my meditation. Nino's here. He parks the car and helps Miss Colvin out from the passenger seat. She's dressed as if she's on her way to a funeral, with black ruffles wrapping around her waist with a skirt ending just above her knees. Her hair is styled in a short brunette bob. Cazzo, even in disguise, this kid is going to kill me. 

"Miss Colvin, we meet again. Let's take our seats." 

We enter the restaurant and Nino hangs around outside. As we walk to our table in the back corner, I hang my coat on the hooks they have near the tables. It's one of the few things the Vesuvius gets right about booth seating. When you want privacy, you want everything nearby.

She's still visibly nervous under her veiled hat. I start, "Now...Miss Colvin, what do you need my help with?" I remove my gloves and stuff them into my jacket pocket.

She takes a deep breath. "To be honest, this matter has gotten too complicated, I have no one else to turn to." I wonder why she thinks this is a problem only I can help her with. Does she know who I am? I lightly rest my hand on my chin while I watch her.

"Why don't you tell me about it? I'm all ears."

She pulls her notebook out of her purse. It's like a dam finally breaking under the pressure. She starts talking while rapidly flipping through her notes. I learn how she snuck into the hospital. She was fired from the Sun Times for her article after being dragged to the Newspaper Association press party and praised for her work. Ouch. She left the event in a daze -- who wouldn't after getting sucker punched like that -- and she met me. She looks at me expectantly. Of course I remember it clearly. I'm a little shocked because I don't remember saying those words, but they came out of my mouth. Her eyes search mine for some hidden meaning before she continues.

"Not long after, my house got broken into and I lost all my notes." I remember the rainy day when she sat at the diner with crumbled bits of paper on the bar top. She must have been trying to reconstruct her notes from memory. Il mio povero passero.

"I didn't notice it at the time, but I think I'm being targeted." 

_Niente merda, because you keep running headlong into danger like an addict._ I manage to keep these words inside my head this time, but my traitorous lips curl into half a smirk. 

"After that, someone pointed out everything might be linked to Jessica. However, when I returned to the hospital I was informed that Jessica had passed away."

I think back to yesterday's conversation with Leonardo. Jessica definitely died suspiciously.

"What explanation did the Metropolitan Hospital give?"

"They said she passed away due to complications from her lobotomy procedure. They had her cremated."

 _Lobotomy. Cazzo_! No wonder Stella has been out of her mind with fear. I've heard about this procedure. They drill directly into your head. It sounds like a sadist's dream. I repress a shudder. 

"As for her belongings, they were taken away by a mysterious man claiming to be her father. Jessica Taylor's father was a police officer who died in the line of duty.”

She pauses, and muses the following for dramatic effect, "Why would this mysterious man impersonate Jessica's father just to take her belongings? There's definitely more to this than meets the eye." There's a sparkle of determination in her gaze. I raise an eyebrow in return.

"There's more. I snuck into the Wellmer Medical Factory at night and witnessed  
… a transaction."

 _Nino and Rossi_. I inwardly grimace, but maintain my poker face.

"Rio Rossi, the union chairman for the workers' union, was present."

"Rio Rossi?" I want to confirm she has the whole name right.

"You know him?"

I don't want to start answering more questions about this until she tells me her actual trouble and not just her investigation. Time to lie.

"I know _of_ him. Please go on."

She studies my face for any hint of information it can give me before continuing.

"Moreover, to be involved in such a transaction, he should... he would have ties to the Mafia."

Ah, we finally got to the public's favorite M-word. She's still peering to see if this has gotten a rise out of me. It hasn't. For all the things I see in my line of work, the mild reactions I have are a strange miracle.

"Please, go on." 

She clears her throat. "With that, the taking of Jessica's belongings is even more suspect. Unfortunately for me at the factory, I was discovered by Rossi. I had to lie through my teeth to get out alive. The personal escort was a bit intimidating. I was surprised he let me go, but his guard is up. He's been sending someone to tail me whenever I'm working out of my office." 

"Miss Colvin…" I choose my words carefully, "I take it the help you want involves dealing with Rossi?"

She nods slowly. "Yes. He realized I've been investigating him in secret." She hesitates. "But instead of confronting me directly, he targeted my family. He duped my dad into incurring a huge gambling debt, and threatened to kill him if I continued my inquiries. I hope you can help me with this."

That's definitely Rossi's style. Blackmail. It's what he was famous for before loudly stating he was leaving the business years ago. Guess he tried to do something stupid with Juliano, and now he's coordinating alcohol trades again. But something doesn't seem right. That's a little too risky of a crime if it's just alcohol, like Nino said. Though he mentioned one of the barrels seeming a bit weird. I mentally file that away for later.

Her soft voice interrupts my thought train. "Mr. Puzo, am I asking too much? I--"

I cut her off. "You're overthinking, Miss Colvin. I'll send someone to deal with it." I reach over and flip to a blank page in her notebook and tap on it. She writes down her parents’ names and their address. They have a small farm out in Illinois. She tears out the sheet from her notebook and I tuck it into my breast pocket with a nod.

"Really? Thank you so much! Mr. Puzo, if you need any help in the future, I'll be there!"

I give her a look. I want her to stop liking shit that is bad for her. And she's still desperately flying straight into it like the carefree little bird she is.

"That won't be necessary, Miss Colvin. This is my promise to you, one you deserve."

She's surprised by my tone of sincerity and falls silent. Maybe I laid it on a bit too thick. I motion to the waiter to start bringing out the food. Might as well show her a good time while I have her. 

We have _Prosciutto e melone_ , _bruschetta_ topped with an eggplant hot relish, and _caprese_ salad. I didn't want to intimidate her with a full Italian meal experience with multiple entrées so we share a family serving of _Frutti di mare_ and a bottle of the House red. The only conversation being her asking what a dish is, and me replying with the name. It feels like the night flies by, too fast for my liking. She tried and enjoyed everything, much to the pleasure of my heart. Ma would have liked her. 

"Miss Colvin, is the food to your liking?" 

"Absolutely! Thank you for your hospitality." She beams with gratitude and I savor her smile. We can't live in this moment forever, and I have to know if this will be a recurring thing.

"Miss Colvin, if I may ask, will you continue your investigations on Rossi?" 

She pauses to consider her response, "Hmm… yes. Of course."

"But if you keep this up, you may be at the receiving end of even more of his threats. Have you thought about this?"

"To be honest this did cross my mind." She folds her arms and stares at me through the birdcage veil intently. "However, if I were to give up my pursuit for truth because of this, I'd never be able to live with it."

She speaks with conviction, like this is the only thing she cares about. Time to gently prod.

"Rossi alone might not faze you, but what if there were other powers involved?"

My question stuns her. And her confidence falters. As much as I enjoy her uneasiness, I find the thought of soothing her more appealing than it should be.

"You're sharp, and should already have an idea of Rossi's dealings. This much I can say...  
Rossi has deep connections with the Juliano family. I don't think this is something you can handle."

Sometimes you gotta make the truth painfully clear. At my last challenge though, she gets fired up.

"If so, I only have _more_ reason to investigate further."

What a strange woman. A sane person would have accepted defeat by now, and yet I am drawn to her - what do the Americans say - _moxie._

"Miss Colvin, astute people should not put themselves in the line of danger. Besides, even if you do find something, the Juliano family won't be touched. There are collusions with authorities for money. Do you not understand?"

She turns ice cold at my insult, and I chuckle inwardly. How delightful she would be if--

"It is not my intention to disregard your kind advice. But I have my own values to hold on to. Dangerous as it is, I wish for all evildoers to be punished justly, no matter what the approach may be. However, everything starts with uncovering the truth."

"Since your mind is made, I have nothing left to say."

We're silent through dessert. I have a freshly pulled shot of espresso with my cannoli. The only sounds are sipping and crunching for the rest of the meal.

The waiter comes back with the check, and I pull out enough money to pay it, including a generous tip. He leaves, Miss Colvin is tidying away her notebook and pulling out a shawl as she stands. As we leave Vesuvio, I tap Nino on the shoulder and he hands me the keys. Nino flashes me a grin and waggles his eyebrows. I roll my eyes and try not to heave an annoyed sigh. Miss Colvin catches Nino's face and looks at me quizzically. I politely open the passenger door and help her into the car. I cross to the other side and start driving.

It's not long before we arrive on her street. She must have figured that Nino would tell me where she lived. She doesn't wait for me to open the door and starts to get out of the car herself.

"Mr. Puzo, thank you for the meal. Goodbye."

 _I can't let it end like this._ I don't know why I feel that way, so I let impulse rule me for a bit. 

"A moment, please." 

"Yes?" She stops and retakes the seat.

"Miss Colvin, we've already crossed paths a few times. Do you have any guesses who l am?"

She's at a momentary loss for words as she considers what I said. "Why would you suddenly ask this?"

Hmm. Why indeed. A woman so intelligent would make certain connections with how worldly my persona is.

"You don't have to think too deeply on this. I just want to hear your true thoughts." 

She looks down while replying. "After the incident at Daisy's premiere, I figured that you must have some connections to the Mafia."

I stifle a snort. "Since you've already made these assumptions, why would you still ask me for help?"

Miss Colvin looks up at me and studies my face intently. As if she's really seeing me for the first time. My heart skips a beat, stuttering with something far too close to hope.

"You strike me as a dependable and trustworthy man. Who you are doesn't matter to me."

It's my turn to be stunned. Miss Colvin, you are truly insane, _Madonna Santa_. An unfamiliar emotion expands in my chest that I’ll have to dissect later.

"Miss Colvin, are you _really_ going to continue investigating Rossi?"

She notices my subtle note of disbelief. She stands her ground. "Of course. I'll never back down on this."

I'm utterly captivated. The seed of an idea is planted in my head, but I need time to cultivate it.

"If you've really made up your mind, contact me again in three days."

"Why in three days?"

Gotta give her something to keep me on her mind. I want to be so selfish. I get out of the car and open the door on her side to help her out.

"You'll know then. Sweet dreams, Miss Colvin."

I close the door and get back in the driver seat. I start driving away and notice in the rearview mirror that she's staring at the car until I turn the corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta work by astroAntagonist and VerdiWithin. Thank you both so much ❣️
> 
> Vitto really likes good food.
> 
>  _Merda_ \- Sh*t  
>  _Niente Merda_ \- No Sh*t  
>  _Cazzo_ \- Expletive similar to F*ck in severity  
>  _Madonna Santa_ \- slang - Good God (literally Saint Madonna)
> 
> edit: 10-8-2020
> 
> 2nd Round Beta: Red, VerdiWithin


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Major spoilers. If you are playing the game, maybe wait until after chapter 2 in game to read this. Only warning.

I wished her sweet dreams.

I watched how she stared after me. 

I hungered, _mio Dio_ , I hungered so much.

When I first saw her shapely legs under that black ruffle, I couldn't stop thinking about how far they went up. The buttons and seams on that dress reminded me of my suit. The rich black color matched my gloves. Birds of a feather flock together, isn't that what they say? My imagination ran wild with the thought of my gloved hands tracing the seams of her silhouette.

Would she be nervous? Would she flush with delight from my touch, or would she push me away? I recall the warmth that crept over her delicate collarbone when she was embarrassed about babbling. I longed to see how far across her body that pink color spread. In a futile attempt to stop the onslaught of imagery, I bite the inside of my cheek. This is getting out of hand. There's that familiar tightening in my slacks. 

I look around. None of the help are here; they’ve all been sent home for the evening. No one usually stays in the brownstone with me - except for the few times I've felt the urge to scratch an itch. 

Time to loosen my tie and undo the top few buttons to cool off. There's some friction below as I sit up.

I unzip my slacks to relieve the delicious pressure.

\----

It's a trap to call women ‘angels.’ Especially when they're so much more than that - particularly when it comes to a woman as singular as Miss Colvin. It still feels too personal to think about her on a first name basis, too soon for such a shallow acquaintance. But I feel myself getting drawn inexorably deeper.

She's not what most would call drop-dead gorgeous. But she's not what you would call plain, either. If you didn't get a good look at her, she would blend in with the crowd. The compelling thing about her is that she's willing to get the job done. She’s determined, driven, and the fierce look in her eyes lends her features something...striking. Hers is a quiet beauty, made magnificent by her passionate intellect.

Yes, she’s determined, alright. That seed of an idea gets me wondering: how could she investigate further? Rossi is menacing, but he's hardly any big fish under Juliano. He's relegated to rum running. Which in itself is odd: he used to be an underboss before his dramatic exit. Either Juliano has something big on him, or he’s holding something of Juliano’s. Or, maybe he’s doing something that the rest of Juliano’s family shouldn’t be involved with. Whatever it is, there’s a reason why it’s so hard to find anything on this.

As I go to the door to grab my morning’s mail, I notice an unmarked postcard. No postmark, no stamp. I recognize it as Leonardo’s handwriting. It simply states that he’s back, and if I need him to ring for him at Salemi’s. I have a mind to start watching Wellmer Medical, since they’re having some labor protests that Rossi has been leading. I ring Carmine at his house.

“How was Stella?” I ask, in lieu of a greeting. I can practically hear Carmine rolling his eyes at me down the line.

“She didn’t want to talk much to me, but she did talk to Alice. Sounds like she learned about our little event back at the Valencia. Her former beau was one of the goons we popped off. She seems a little less nervous now. Might want to bring more sympathetic folk around to help her out.” He laughs self-deprecatingly. “I might be a little too... rough ’round the edges for her.”

At least Stella is thawing. The cold, heavy chains of guilt weigh down my chest with the resignation that I had to put her there in the first place. If she had violated _omertà_ instead, I don’t think I could have contained her punishment. Still, if I had known then that they were getting into cutting into people’s brains, like those Portuguese doctors last year, I would have found a safer way of scaring her straight. I fear she may never talk to me again. Given the circumstances, I’m just relieved she’s still alive. Even if she hates me, she’s still breathing. Forgive me, _la mia picciona_. I didn’t know.

“She did also say thank you for the cookies. So there’s that.” Carmine chuckles. 

Silver linings, and all that.

“Listen, I’ll need you to come by later. I’ll need a ride to Salemi’s -- come pick me up here around 8.”

“Sure thing.”

I hang up the receiver and consider my next move. To solve Miss Colvin’s problem, I’m going to need to call in a favor with the Chicago outfit. I knew Paul de Lucia when he arrived here from Cuba before he went out to Chicago. Before he became Paul Ricci. The public knows Frank Nitti as being the boss of the Chicago Outfit, but the man who actually runs the operation is Paul. He did tell me to look him up if I needed help with something.

I dial the number… and wait.

"De Lucia residence." The voice is soft and feminine.

"Good evening. Could you please tell Paul it's Mr. Puzo from New York."

There's a pause and the sound is temporarily muffled - a hand covering the receiver?- then I hear the familiar heavily accented voice on the other end.

"Hey Vitto! I ain't heard from you in years. What's goin' on?"

"Ah, nothin’ special. Just looking for some info,” I reassure him, unwilling to raise any suspicions. “You know anything about Rio Rossi?"

"Yeah, claims that Frankie wanted someone to string up some small-time farmer for a favor. I ain't a fan of the guy. Cheaper to work the folks behind the silver screen than what he's doin'."

"Can you hold 'em off? It's just part of a local disagreement here. Rossi's got it all wrong. Just some friendly games between me and Juliano. No need to shake down a little guy."

"Yeah, I ain't been on him after he offed Maranzano. He's gone into some dark shit. You know the feds, Vitto. He's skirtin' real close just 'cause he thinks he's invincible."

"I have plans for that, Paul. Just make sure the Colvin Family down south of you is safe."

"You have my word, Vitto. Don't be a stranger. Not many guys like you around anymore." He sounds genuine, too, and...I don’t know what to say.

"Thank you."

He hangs up. I consider what else I can do as I replace the receiver. 

I sleep and dream of a woman I'm too scared to call an angel.

\---

I wake up far too early. I couldn't sleep. I still feel groggy, and after nothing else of note in the morning round of newspapers, I go back to bed for a short nap.

I jolt awake a few hours later with an idea...but I need more information. I decide to keep a closer eye on Rossi. With everyone having a telephone these days, news travels fast. I don't think Juliano would appreciate someone using his clout unnecessarily for what could be construed as personal business. The best course of action is to go straight to The Sparrow Room and see if Juliano would summon Rossi there.

It's only some of these more sensitive missions when the list of guys who need to know about sensitive information is shorter than Juliano's temper. I like to think my personal touch is what inspires loyalty - even when meting out punishment. There's also great satisfaction to be had when laying down a fantastic plan and the parts interplay as expected. 

The Sparrow Room is an upscale gentlemen's club. Everyone is dressed, but Mrs. Molly still accepts anyone who wants to attend -- provided they pay the cover charge and follow the dress code. She has standards to uphold, she says. I’ve heard she’s similarly strict with her dancing girls. While they're not the Rockettes with their high flying kicks, the appeal of the Sparrow Room has more to do with landing a little bird in your lap. It's an open secret as to why Juliano spends most of his time at this club - because out of all his establishments, Mrs. Molly provides him with the finest.

It's not exactly legal with us either, in the Business. We prefer jobs with no paperwork, and sinking our fingers into politics to make our other businesses run easier: looser restrictions on casinos, for example, in exchange for the fat tax revenue that the politicians long for. It’s a lesson that men like me have long since learned, no matter where you are in the world - if you give the powers that be their cut, they let a lot slide.

But this is the modern day slave trade. I know guys who have racked up huge debts and sold their cousins and girlfriends to pay them off. I know a few women who sold themselves to get off of the street. If they can dance and are easy on the eyes, Mrs. Molly puts them in the floor show. If they're not, they go somewhere else. There's a lot of whispers but very little hard evidence of what happens to them after that. All that's certain is that it has the feel of a relentless machine that chews up frightened girls and hides every trace of them. With any concrete evidence, this might be enough to change the power structure of the New York Families in my favor and out of Juliano's. It might be enough to bump off the unsettling Councilman Harris, too. I wonder if the Sparrow Room is what holds them together. As good as I am at moving stealthily, it's one area I can't sneak into unnoticed. 

Suddenly, Miss Colvin's face comes to mind. No. Not unless I have to.

I enter the Sparrow Room as a guest, and sit at a table in the corner. I've only been here a few times, mostly at Juliano's behest on Family business. Juliano himself is already at his normal table with his closer associates. Drinking and laughing. Until Rossi bursts into the club, and makes a beeline for their table. 

Juliano's smile is overtaken by a snarl. "How _dare_ you show your face here." 

"Frankie, You told me to tie up all the loose ends, I was tying up a loo--"

Juliano surges to his feet and grabs Rossi by the collar. Rossi is not a small man, but Juliano holds him up enough to lift his feet off the ground. The band stops playing.

"You don't get to use my name like it's yours because you're too lazy to take care of the business yourself. Can't even take care of one nosy reporter. After all I've done for you. Pathetic. Trash like you should be taken out."

Juliano lets go of his collar and Rossi falls to his knees.

He tries to get to his feet, but Juliano kicks him flat to the ground and holds him there with his freshly polished shoes. Juliano bends down to blow some smoke from his cigar into his face.

"See, you almost dinged my shoe. You know what we do with rats, Rio. We call the _sterminatore._ " The last statement said as if he were delivering a punchline. But no one was laughing.

Juliano removes his foot and pulls Rossi to his feet by his collar. He pushes Rossi towards the wall. And presses the embers of his cigar to the back of Rossi's neck. The pinned man screams in pain.

"But because I'm feeling charitable. I'm gonna give you a head start. Now get lost."

Juliano goes back to his seat as Rossi runs out of the club. He motions for the band and festivities to resume. Juliano waves over some of his boys and whispers something I don't catch. They leave. The Sparrow Room lights dim as the stage lights come up.

I slip out when the floor show starts. I pass by the two boys Juliano whispered to and see them fiddling with some bags in a trunk. There's not much time.

I get in my car and wait. As they pull away from the curb I start following a few car lengths behind. We drive through the city until we're near some tightly clustered row houses. There's not a lot of cars here. Up ahead is Rossi just leaving his car and running up into a nondescript home. I drive on past the scene and turn a corner - I can't let Juliano's boys catch me. Just as I’m getting out of my car, I hear a struggle in the alley behind the houses. I keep to the wall near the dumpster, out of the light and watch as Rossi's hand luggage clatters to the ground. The boys drag him inside. 

There's a single shot and all goes quiet. 

The taller one goes back outside to grab the worn leather case and brings it in. There's some low conversation and noises for several minutes before they finally leave. I don't approach his house until I hear the car pull away from the curb. Inside, where Rossi was shot, his hands were curled around the gun.

There's no sign of a struggle.

Rio Rossi has simply ceased to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta by HeliosAlpha and VerdiWithin
> 
>  _mio Dio_ \- My God  
>  _la mia picciona_ \- my pigeon  
>  _sterminatore_ \- Exterminator
> 
> Edit: 10-8-2020
> 
> 2nd Round Beta: Red, VerdiWithin


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2-16 spoilers

I consider options since Rossi is dead. I get back to my car and glance at my watch. _Merda_. I'm late for my own get together. I jog to the nearest phone booth and dial the brownstone.  
_Hopefully Carmine realises it's me when he sees my car is gone._

"Hello, who's calling?"

Sweet relief. "Carmine, it's me. I got a little caught up. I'm not far from Salemi's myself -- do you mind waiting there until I get back? Something more important I need your feedback on came up. Maybe get Nino over there too."

"Sure thing, boss. Bring us some _arancini_ though?"

"We'll see."

I hang up and get back into my car and drive the short distance to Salemi's. I park in the rear and walk in through the back. Leonardo is in the employee break room, having a cigarette.

I give him a hearty slap on the back. "Good to see you, kid."

"Hey boss. What's up?"

I lower my voice, "Rossi's dead."

Leonardo's eyes widen. " _Niente Merda_. When?"

"Just now. Juliano's boys. Please, be careful in there. I have half a mind to pull you out of this." I speak deliberately so he understands the gravity of this situation.

Leonardo shakes his head, "I can't. You'd have to move my Ma and she's determined to die in that house with her cats. When they get me, they'll get me, y'know?"

I'm stunned by his dedication. That little seed of an idea takes root and grows. I can't control where it's going...but it's the kind of delicious long con that can work. All of the players are right for this.

"I know you told me before that Juliano has had you pick up women to sell to Mrs. Molly, is that right?"

He nods.

I continue, "What if we cooked up a story with our own bird to get into the Sparrow Room to be our eyes?"

"That's the thing, boss -- you got anyone in mind? Alicia's loyal and talented but she's a little old to pass for one of Mrs. Molly's girls."

Miss Colvin's face flashes in my mind again. I know she'd go for it. I briefly considered it when we last had dinner, but this wasn't the way I intended to do it.

I straighten my tie, "I have someone in mind. I floated an opportunity for the truth in front of her. As much as I hate to admit it, she's likely to take it. It's too good an opportunity to resist."

"Too good an opportunity? For you or her?"

"She's the kind of broad who runs face first into danger if it gets her answers. But I can't deny that it'll benefit my personal goal of ousting Juliano for getting into the unsavoury markets."

"Sounds like she's your gal, then."

His statement gives me pause. I consider my words carefully.

"She's... she's not anyone's gal. But I don't want to see her get hurt. And I know Juliano is dangerous."

Leonardo laughs, "You're sure you don't want her to be your gal?" I shoot him a look that says this is off-topic. He's not wrong though.

"Leo, you're gonna have to ham this up big time if she says yes. I don't want to blow your cover."

"Don't worry, Boss, I'm good at that improvisation." He flashes me a thumbs up and grins.

I hope he's right about that. It's time to take my leave and drive to the brownstone. I park the car and go inside where Carmine is waiting with Nino. 

"Gentlemen, we've got a slight change of plans."

I give them the rundown of everything that's happened tonight, from Juliano's order, to Rossi's death, to the plan for the Sparrow Room. Before I could introduce the idea, Nino pipes up, "Miss Colvin would do that in a heartbeat as long as she got to write the story."

Sigh. "Yes, that's what worries me. She's been getting into way too much danger just investigating what should be straightforward stuff. She's not even Family but she's getting caught up in this. I don't like collateral damage."

"Boss, if I may," butts in Nino. I nod.

"Look, boss, I've known you since we both came over from Sicily as kids. Yeah, I get in over my head sometimes, but l mean well. I also know you. Sometimes you're like that Rube Goldberg Machine in the cartoons- overcomplicating simple tasks that aren't related to the Business. You haven't been with a lot of women outside of the occasional one night stand, because you decided you had to go it alone. You go it alone because you think you'll have no weaknesses, no chinks in your armor that way.

"But...Boss, that's no way to live your life. You take so little for yourself because everything has been about the Business or taking care of us. Take time to enjoy your life too. I've seen how you look at Miss Colvin. I know you're worried because she'll want to do this, and you're worried you'll lose her. But that isn't your decision to make. It's hers. You'll go with whatever decision she makes anyway because that's why you like her."

He hits the nail on the head. I'm stunned. Nino is grinning from ear to ear.

"When did you get all emotionally savvy, Nino?" I ask.

"It comes with actually having relationships, Vitto. I've been with the same girl for over a decade. You've been too scared to let anyone in for fear of losing them. I know it's hard, Boss. I'm not you, but I think you forget you ain't like that Sherlock Holmes guy. You're only one man, Vitto."

Carmine clears his throat. Merda, I almost forgot he was here.

"Boss, since you're expectin' that she's going to say yes, what's with the delay?"

"I wanted to be certain she was sure about leaving her life behind. It's not Elizabeth Colvin that's going into the Sparrow Room, but 'Lisa Dawson.'"

"What do you need us to do?"

"Leonardo is going to be the 'boyfriend' who betrays Lisa by selling her to Mrs. Molly to pay off his gambling debts."

"Is Mrs. Molly in on this?"

I shake my head. "No, Molly's too loyal to Juliano to turn on him. You talked about how I don't like having a weakness -- Juliano's weakness is a pretty face. It wouldn't take much for Miss Colvin to attract his attention if she plays her assets right. And she's smart. I think she could hold her own."

"Boss, wouldn't that mean she'd have to get intimate with him?"

"Look, I know that Juliano tends to pick up girls from the Sparrow Room to keep around for a while. Miss Colvin is just trying to play her way in to get evidence and get out."

Carmine pipes up, "Are you sure you're gonna be able to handle that, Boss?"

I blink, struck silent. I didn't really consider that my personal feelings would have any impact since Miss Colvin is doing the heavy lifting of infiltration. "I don't know. I suppose we'll find out. Let's call it a night for now and see what tomorrow brings. She still has another day to decide. Otherwise we'll figure out another way in."

Carmine and Nino head home and I collapse into my study chair. The dancing flickers of the fire and the radiant warmth lull me into a deep, dreamless sleep.

\---

My eyes open. I'm confused for a moment -- I'm already sitting up. I realize I slept in my clothes in the wingback chair. I see a blanket on me. One of the maids must have put it on me. Neck feels stiff from falling asleep at a weird angle. I start to get up, then the phone rings. I look at the time. It's still before noon. My heart starts beating faster because I'm very sure of who is calling this early.

I put the receiver to my ear, and I hear the soft tones of her voice. _Melodioso._

"Mr. Puzo? I...I want to thank you for everything you've done for me. Can I take you to dinner tomorrow, in the early evening?"

"I may still end up paying on your behalf. I know how much reporters make, Miss Colvin."

Her laughter resounds through the ear piece, "I can still pay for my own dinner, surely."

"We'll see. Have your folks called you? Are they all set?"

"Yes, and it's a huge relief that they're ok. My mother suspects something, but I'm not about to tell her who helped me. I'm not the best to answer questions as much as ask them, I'm afraid." She laughs again, and the sound is so enchanting, I wish I could record it. 

"Where did you want to go eat?"

"I'd like to go back to Vesuvio and try more different dishes. Everything was so good last time, I just want to explore more."

"Need me to pick you up?"

"I'll take a cab, it's really ok! I feel like you have done so much for me already," she insists.

"Alright, if the lady is protesting, I won't pick you up. I'll see you at 7?"

"I'll see you at 7."

I hang up the receiver and exhale the butterflies that had taken residence in my belly. I’ve never been so nervous about dinner with a woman before.

Tomorrow can't come soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by VerdiWithin and astroAntagonist
> 
> Note:  
>  _arancini_ \- Italian Rice Ball filled with cheese and veg or cheese and meat, or sauce and meat. mmm.  
>  _Niente Merda_ \- No Sh*t  
>  _Merda_ \- Sh*t  
>  _Melodioso_ \- Melodious
> 
> Edit: 10-9-2020  
> 2nd Round Beta: VerdiWithin, Red


	11. Chapter 11

I spend most of the day dreaming up a backstory for 'Lisa Dawson' and collecting my thoughts.

She's a small town girl from a farm out in New Jersey. The depression hit their farm like it has most "normal" businesses. They're suffering from burdensome debts trying to keep it afloat so Lisa decides to try finding work in the city at one of the factories. Wellmer Medical is the closest one, and since Leo's involved it's believable. I write out her character treatment onto notecards. I borrow a little from the missing girls’ ads I've seen, to suggest how Miss Colvin might want to tailor what she brings with her. Part of me still hopes that she says no.

Something bothers me about these missing girls’ ads I’ve seen. Didn’t someone else’s daughter go missing? It’ll come to me when I clear away the newspapers. The maids have taken to depositing each day’s newspapers into my study since I hadn’t done it myself. I usually archive the newspapers to track public progress and opinion on various ventures. I have been terribly distracted the last few weeks.

I came across the newspaper from early last week - when Jessica Taylor passed away. She was the only survivor after her father Walter Taylor died in the line of duty. Her daughter Amy went missing from school. Rumor had it that’s what drove her into the loony bin. _Missing from School_ … that feels awfully familiar. I check the classifieds in the _Gotham Times_. There’s a short ad here for a Miss Ivanova looking for her daughter who went missing from school! There it is again! No mention of which school though. I flip through several more papers until at last one of the missing girls’ ads mentions their daughter attended Gotham Charity School - of which the Tiger Charitable Foundation was a sponsor. I get a sick feeling in my stomach, because I now have a pretty good idea who’s at the end of this road Miss Colvin is on. But...I’m not going to stop her if this is what she wants to pursue.

My mind races with all the ways this can go wrong. The more complicated a plan is, the more avenues it has to failure. However, it does make the success all the sweeter, I have to admit.   
My hall clock sounds off five times -- 5 pm -- I've already passed most of the day just losing myself down the rabbit holes of plotting and research. It's nearly time to see Miss Colvin.

I select a brown suit with a tan vest for contrast, along with a teal satin tie. I clip in my tie bar and chatelaine to keep everything in its place. I think how funny it is that the antique ones you can find have all been for women to hold their sewing scissors and the like as lady of the house, and ours have been mostly decorative to replace the odd pocket watch chain. Mine, I inherited from the previous head of the Puzo Family -- when I became Vittorio Puzo. I had a different family back home, but coming to America meant a new life, and with it, a new name.

The underworld has changed me. I can't say for certain if it was for the better, but I'm still here.

I check the time -- I should get going. I have Carmine drop me off. I tell him to come back for me in two hours. It's going to be a long dinner.

There's enough time for a cigarette. Feels like I haven't had one all morning. Didn't feel the itch I usually get for it- probably was distracted enough. I get as far as pulling it out before Miss Colvin's cab pulls up, and she alights from the vehicle. She shrugs off her coat and hands it to me. I can't find any other word for how she dressed other than "splendid". Shimmery blue-black satin with a deep v cut and gathered just under her breasts along a high seam. Ruffles bordered the top of the dress and the fabric appeared to be a river on a moonless night, poured down her divine body. I want so badly to get lost in those waters. I put the cigarette back in my case without ever partaking in it.

"I want to thank you again, Mr. Puzo, for helping me. My family's problems have been resolved rather neatly." She curtseys politely and I catch a flash of her ankle. I'm starting to feel like a curious schoolboy again. I crack a smile after licking my suddenly dry lips.

She continues, "About what you said before, I actually…"

I hold up my hand to interrupt. "That we are here tonight speaks of your determination. I understand." I gently cup her elbow and lead her inside to our table. I remove my gloves and stuff them into the pocket of my overcoat and hang it on the hook along with her jacket near the table. I didn't order ahead this time, so the waiter brings us menus. "However, I fear you may be disappointed." Best to break this to her now.

"What do you mean?"

"Rossi is dead."

She flips down the menu and her eyes go wide in disbelief. "What? Are you joking?!" The volume of her voice attracts some attention and she claps her hand to her mouth, looking sheepishly back at me in apology.

"Unfortunately, Miss Colvin, I am not."

She shakes her head as if she's trying to make it untrue. Her eyes meet mine. "When? How?"

"Last night. He was shot in his house."

"Who killed him?"

"They don't know. They haven't found any clues." And they won't because they cleaned up their mess. To a cop just looking to file the necessaries, it's an open and shut suicide. 

Miss Colvin sits in stunned silence, slowly blinking. I gently caress her hand. It's as soft as I imagined, and I force myself to focus.

"Will you still continue your investigation?"

She hesitates… and nods.

I proceed, " _Mia piccola passerotta_ , you have no idea what you're up against." 

"Do you know what I am up against?"

Last ditch effort to deflect. "A girl like you, from a prestigious college. Your future is bright. Why take this dangerous path? Why do you put yourself constantly in harm's way?"

Her hand rushes to her face, covering her lovely blush when she realizes my hand was still on hers. She collects herself and speaks firmly, meeting my gaze. "Seeking the truth may be difficult, but I won't give up, Mr Puzo."

"The Juliano Family is involved." 

"I know they are the most powerful Mafia family--"

I barely suppress a snort. "Hmm, for now."

She didn't notice. "But I don't know much about them. Only what I've read in the news." 

Her beautiful hazel eyes are full of conviction. There's no use. In her mind, she's already agreed to this by coming here and nothing I can do will dissuade her from her mission.

I relent and decide to give her the rest plainly. 

"Before he was the union chairman, Rossi was Francisco Juliano's _confidente_."

"Could Juliano have killed him?"

"Probably, but that's for you to investigate."

"What are you saying, Mr. Puzo?"

"That the best way to get to the bottom of this is to get close to Francesco Juliano."

She spitters incredulously, "Get close to him! What, me? Impossible!"

I shrug. "It's entirely possible... as long as you assume a new identity."

"Why would you help me?"

 _Ah, there's the rub._ But she deserves to know why I'm hard set on this, even though it's dangerous. She already convinced me she's ready. "You're as sharp as I thought you'd be, Miss Colvin. We run businesses. And Juliano has broken some rules of the business. A price must be exacted for this."

"Why do you need me for this?"

"Juliano is very cautious, but he has some of the same bad habits most men do. Underestimating a woman, for example. A clever and tenacious woman like yourself is an ideal partner in this endeavor." And for other business, I thought to myself, the _grande lupo_ within licking its chops.

I hear her take a deep breath in, and after a slow exhale, she asks, "What would you need me to do?"

"Get close to Juliano, gain his confidence. When the time comes, give me the necessary information."

"You want me to be a spy? You want to disguise me as Mafia?"

Oh, she's misunderstood me. I laugh quietly. "Heh, no. Women can't...No, I have another identity for you. You're going to be a dancing girl."

She recoils and hides behind the menu. "Wha- why? Why would Juliano trust a dancing girl?"

"He'll trust you, Miss Colvin. I'm certain of it." Because I trust you.

Miss Colvin looks like she's lost her appetite. Povero passerotta.

"This is not an easy decision to make. Think carefully."

Our waiter comes and takes our orders. I elect to have a salad with some thinly sliced cured meats on the side. Miss Colvin goes for some bread. She must still think she's paying for my dinner. 

We eat in silence. I offer her some of the meats, which she accepts gratefully.

As our empty dishes are cleared away, Miss Colvin looks at me expectantly.

"There's a price to pay for working with me, Miss Colvin. But you'll get what you want, I assure you. It's entirely up to you." I wave to the waiter so that I can pay the check. 

We get up, and I fish out my gloves from my coat pocket and put them on, and ease into my coat. I help her with hers before we walk outside, where Carmine is waiting. I open the door for her and help her inside. I get in on the other side. I tell Carmine where we're going.

We ride in an uneasy silence to Irving Square Park. Before she leaves the car, I speak the last thoughts on my mind, "You don't need to answer now. Take your time and think it over carefully."

She nods and walks the curving paths of the park, wrapping her coat tightly against her as she crosses the street to the row of houses where she lives.

Carmine asks, "So are we abandoning this, then?"

"No. Part of me wants her to, so she'll be safe, but I think we'll hear from her tomorrow." I lean back in my seat and sigh deeply. "Let's go home, Carmine. I need a cigarette."

We pull up to the brownstone and I can hear the ringer box on the telephone. I hurry inside to answer.

"Hello, Mr. Puzo? I'll do it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by VerdiWithin and astroAntagonist
> 
>  _Mia Piccola passerotta_ \- My Little Sparrow  
>  _Confidente_ \- Confidant
> 
> Edit: 10-9-2020
> 
> 2nd Round Beta by: VerdiWithin, Red


	12. Chapter 12

The rest of the evening is a flurry of activity.

I prepare my notes on Lisa's backstory, and gather together the other odds and ends she'll need. Nino spent the evening looking for some receipts and train ticket stubs to plant in her bag in case she is searched, showing that she came in from out of town.

I'll need to find another safehouse to talk to both her and Leo. We'll probably use Kenny's Laundry since he owes me a favor and is pretty discreet with this business. Unless something comes up, Leo's going to be the only one in direct contact with Miss Colvin whenever she starts so she's able to work unimpeded.

I shudder at the thought of what I mean by unimpeded. I implied that she'll have to get close to Juliano, but knowing him, that usually entails a more...physical relationship. I trust that Miss Colvin is smart and will do what’s necessary to get the truth she's seeking. But it doesn't quiet the flames of jealousy gripping my beating heart. I try to push these feelings down -- I don't even know Miss Colvin like that -- but can't realistically justify what I am feeling. Everything about our relationship, as far as emotions go, has been one sided, or my interpretation of her feelings. While I can't deny that my feelings for her have grown, I have no indication that she reciprocates. She's just been exceedingly polite to me. 

Maybe I read more into her look as I drove away that night than she put forth into it. Part of me holds out hope, but no matter how badly I want to sweep her into my arms, I can't afford to distract her. Not when we're both close to furthering our goals.

\---

Carmine and Nino listen as I lay out what will happen tomorrow for this to go smoothly.

Nino will be picking up Miss Colvin at 9 am to bring her to the Villa first. I've already told her to pack her best evening wear to take with her. 

Carmine will drive me to the country Villa tonight. Tomorrow morning, Carmine will go after Nino to gather her other belongings. I promised her I would keep them safe while she's "Lisa." I already spoke to Leonardo so he'll be there when she arrives at the Villa. I can't afford the brownstone to get compromised since it's in the thick of things. We'll operate out of the Villa until Kenny's Laundry is ready for us. It's inconvenient, but it's safe.

Leonardo will be the only one of us who can publicly see Miss Colvin without going into the Sparrow Room. If Juliano sees me with her while she’s supposed to be getting close with him, the results would be catastrophic for her. Same goes for Leonardo, for bringing her to the Sparrow Room in the first place. 

And I need to spend more time with Stella. I miss her personality and the jokes she used to make with us. After her stay in the loony ward, she's become a shell of herself. I regret deeply not finding another way to resolve our issue without inflicting deep seated trauma. I resolve to spend more time with her as I work out of the Villa. I hope we can get back to her tolerating me, but I accept that I don't deserve her forgiveness. The brutal truth about being in a Family is that you can lose your blood relatives along the way. 

\---

The next morning, Carmine and I welcome Leonardo to the Villa. I bring him up to speed on Miss Colvin’s new identity and the expansion to his existing role. Just as we’re sitting down for some coffee, Nino and Miss Colvin arrive.

Nino opens the door and calls out, “Boss! Miss Colvin is here!”

Carmine hurriedly downs his espresso and leaves through the side door to head over to Miss Colvin’s to pack up her belongings. I get up with my coffee and a saucer to greet them at the door. I raise my ceramic cup to Nino in acknowledgement. 

“Alright. You may go.”

Nino drops her bags near the door and makes a beeline for the kitchen. Miss Colvin looks inquisitively around my living room. I’d love to give her a tour, but we’re on a schedule.  
“Miss Colvin.” I gesture to the couch, indicating that she should be seated. “I’m going to brief you on your role.”

“I’m listening.” She meets my gaze. It may be my brain playing tricks on me, but I swear I see her pupils dilate. I put down my cup and saucer and pick up the slim, white paper box we prepared last night. There’s a tendency to over prepare when I am nervous. I hand it to her and start explaining.

“Your new identity is ‘Lisa Dawson,’ a farm girl from New Jersey. We’ll say Hillsdale since it’s not far from here. You’ve come alone to New York City hoping to find work at a factory. You meet Leonard from the ‘Mafia,’ and fall for him.” She gives me a look that seems to ask -- Are you serious? I nod. “But Leonard is a shameless ruffian. He sold you to the Sparrow Room to pay off all his debts. Leonard will be the one to escort you to the Sparrow Room. It’s one of Juliano’s properties, and he’ll be there often.” 

I motion for her to open the box. On top is a photo of Juliano. “That is a photo of your target, Francisco Juliano. It’ll be suspicious if you keep this photo, so please leave it here after looking at it.” She studies the photograph, looking like she’s trying to commit it to memory. “The rest of the contents of that box are for you to use in your identity as Lisa.” Miss Colvin stashes the box into her handbag to look at later.

I check my watch -- we’ve got 10 minutes left. “To avoid suspicion, you need to put on a show of ‘being sold by your boyfriend.’ This--”

She interrupts me, “I’ve never imagined that acting would be part of a spy’s job...” I palm my forehead and give her a look that asks _Are YOU serious?_ She shrugs. “I thought it was all just hiding in bushes...” _At least if she isn’t cut out for this right away maybe we can minimize the damage._

I clear my throat and continue, “This is just the beginning. Once you’re in the Sparrow Room, you have to act the part of ‘Lisa Dawson.’ Rather, from this point on, you are Lisa Dawson.”

“I understand.”

“Remember, Juliano owns that place, so there’s gonna be plenty of Mafia members going in and out. You have to be careful no matter what happens. You have my number in that box -- it’s labeled Bakery -- Call me if there’s anything you can’t handle. But remember, only in secret.”

Leonardo comes in from the kitchen and motions for me to wrap it up, tapping his watch. “Boss, time’s almost up.” He grabs Miss Colvin’s bags and goes out to put them into his trunk. Miss Colvin puts the photo of Juliano back on the table.

I offer Miss Colvin my hand to help her up quickly. “Miss Colvin, I wish you success.” Please for both our sakes don’t let me down.

She replies, “Well, you may think I’m being overly confident, but please believe me -- I will get to the bottom of this.” She salutes me before turning to leave. I crack a huge smile that falls when she shuts the door behind her. The engine of Leonardo’s car roars to life, and the crunching of gravel starts up, getting fainter as they leave the driveway. Can’t help this sinking feeling that I’ve sent her into a hen house run by a load of foxes, but I don’t see many other options. Juliano is moving up the Assembly meeting of the five families by several months, and I feel acutely that if this isn’t resolved soon, there won’t be another opportunity like this. I cradle my head in my hands as I drop onto the couch.

Soft footsteps descend the staircase and get louder as someone comes over to me. “Who was that, _lupo_?” Feminine voice...must be Stella.

“Someone I’m going to regret losing.” 

“Sometimes I think you get off on elaborate schemes.”

I peek through my fingers and confirm that it is Stella. This is the most she’s said to me in months. “Maybe I do. But that’s how it is here.”

Stella sighs and sits down opposite me. She stares at the photo of Juliano on the table.

“Isn’t that Alvaro’s boss?” she asks. I nod, wishing she'd leave me to be miserable. 

“She’s going to the Sparrow Room.”

Stella gets up and slaps my hand away from my face. “You’re a monster, you know that? _Il grande lupo!_ ”

“How do you mean? She wants to investigate, Juliano had Rossi killed. This is her next avenue for information. The plan’s a little risky but--”

“Look, I realize that my relationship with him is why you put me in that hellhole in the first place, and you didn’t know they were literally cutting people open. I can almost forgive you for that because I was not listening to you and yeah, I did talk too much...But why did you send her into Mrs. Molly’s? Don’t you know what goes on in there?”

“I know she gets her dancers from whoever sells them to her, whether the girl is selling herself or sold by someone else. Juliano seems to pluck his girlfriends from the cast of dancers every so often. Other than that... no, I don’t know,” I admitted.

She screams in frustration. “You do all this set up and research and you don’t bother putting pieces together before acting.” Stella starts stomping up the stairs and yells down, “Call me when someone reasonable is back in this house.”

Nino pokes his head in from the kitchen. “What’d I miss?”

“Stella’s almost back to her old self. She says I’m a monster.”

“Well, you are a Family boss, Vitto. Takes a certain kind of person to stay there.”

I get an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Maybe Stella is right. What did I just send Miss Colvin into? _What do I not know?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by VerdiWithin and astroAntagonist
> 
>  _Lupo_ \- Wolf  
>  _il grande lupo_ \- the big wolf
> 
> Edit: 10-9-2020
> 
> 2nd Round Beta: Red, VerdiWithin


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's getting spicy! Still spoilers. Who's surprised?
> 
> I'll be taking a short break to smooth out some of the earlier chapters before resuming updates.

Leonardo comes back and tells me about their little performance to get Miss Colvin into the Sparrow Room. Says she worked better with the less information she had. Said it got a little dramatic, but they managed.

It’s an uneasy first week back in the Villa. Carmine brought Miss Colvin’s belongings over in a trunk. I don’t dare touch it without her permission, but I don’t know how long she’ll be gone from that address, and I promised her I would keep her other belongings safe. He still goes to my brownstone in Queens to keep up appearances. I have someone else posing as me to be seen getting in and out of cars, but I feel like I live through my telephone now. Just a faceless voice dictating actions.

Stella lives out of the telephone, too. She’s been inviting Susanna over every other day and I hear lively chatter upstairs, but I never catch about what. 

It’s Friday evening. Susanna just left the house so we expect the night to be quiet. I’m sitting in the parlor staring at the fire and at Miss Colvin’s belongings.

The villa phone rings. Stella is the first to go answer it. She rolls her eyes and hands the receiver to me.

“Mr. Puzo?”

“What is it, Miss Colvin? Did you meet with any trouble?”

She hesitates. “No...well, yes. I planned to dance on stage to attract Juliano’s attention…” I can guess.

“You can’t dance on stage?”

“That’s right. I mean, I progressed to dancing on stage tonight because someone got hurt, but I can’t seem to get him interested enough in looking at me.”

I pause. This sounds like Alicia’s territory. “Not a problem. I’ll send Leonardo to pick you up tomorrow.”

“Are you sure I can just leave the Sparrow Room when I want?”

I let out a light chuckle. “Sort of. I can’t speak for anyone else, but you can leave whenever you want. However, you’ll have to put on another act for Leonardo tomorrow.” I think. “You’ll still have feelings for Leonardo, and you will go on a short date with him.” She’s better at improv according to Leo.

“Ah..No, I can’t. The last--”

“See you tomorrow, Miss Colvin.” I hang up the phone. I hope she doesn’t think I am teasing her.

Stella looks at me. “If you’re going to get your lady to help, you may as well let me invite Susanna back. She was only in the Sparrow Room for a short time backstage, but I’m sure she can help.”

She’s right. I hand Stella the receiver.

"You win, your turn."

\---

I’m sitting on the couch when Miss Colvin walks through the door. Her long coat hides her dress save for a gauzy cream sheer fabric peeking out from the bottom. Her hair is still platinum blond. That must be her natural hair color, I think. I greet her and motion to the baked goods on the table with the two steaming cups of coffee waiting.

“Miss Colvin, it’s been a while. How are you coping at the Sparrow Room?”

She collapses down into the sofa, sighing. “Just bumbling along...but no one notices. Besides, we have to practice dancing every day...it’s not my strong suit.” She reaches for a butter cookie and starts nibbling.

“It’s hard for everyone, so take it easy.” 

She looks up at me through her long lashes before starting. "You don't know the half of it. She has us practicing the dance routines -- even though I'm backstage helping people with makeup -- and we only get so much time to eat and my brain feels like applesauce. I see how Mrs. Molly is able to convince so many girls to stay, but it's still a bit crazy. I'm making some friends among the girls but they're all terrible gossipers. Apparently Darya used to be Juliano's girl and now they're on the outs."

“It sounds like you’ve done well so far. Now tell me more about what you mentioned on the phone.”

“The stage slots are all maxed out. I can’t get on stage consistently. I only got lucky last night because Darya twisted her ankle. Of course I believe that my turn will come, and I’ll get my chance…” She twirls her finger waves around her long slender digits. “I saw Juliano more than once, but I could never hold his attention.”

“Tell me, what did you do?”

“I batted my eyelashes at him, and messed up my moves on purpose.” I can’t help but laugh. She’s gone to primary school tactics.

“You can learn and I can help you.”

Nino comes in with Alicia. Alicia has worked in several nightclubs for Juliano, but came over to run one of mine when I offered her better benefits. 

“Alicia, she’s your student.”

Alicia looks Miss Colvin up and down before grabbing her hand and proceeding into the drawing room where Susanna and Stella are waiting. The door shuts and I can hear Alicia’s voice directing Miss Colvin along with a jazz record being played.

\---

They take only a few breaks for snacks and refreshments that Stella grabs. In the intervening hours, I fix myself a drink and stand by the fire burning in the hearth. 

Alicia pokes her head out. “Nino! We need someone to practice flirting on, and you look like a good fit.”

“What? Practice with him?” I hear Miss Colvin exclaim in confusion.

I press my fingers to my mouth to hide my smirk. Oh this is getting interesting.

“Of course! You have to practice with an actual person to apply what you’ve learned!”

Nino turns to look at me. He’s exceedingly loyal to his girl and this makes him nervous. He starts sweating profusely, he knows how I feel about Miss Colvin, and he doesn’t want to be anywhere close to cheating on the missus. I find this very amusing. Nino gets up to walk to Alicia and timidly asks,“Must I..?”

“There are only two men here. Surely you don’t expect the boss to do it, do you?”

At that, Miss Colvin peeks through the doorframe and looks at Nino, then at me. Our eyes meet for a moment before she shyly looks down. My heart thrills a little.

Alicia straightens up and ushers Miss Colvin into the room. “Alright, don’t be shy! Try the smile I taught you on Nino!” I finally notice the dress she has on, now that her coat is off. It's the same gold satin dress with the ruffles and embroidered sheer layer draped over top. Miss Colvin smiles prettily at Nino. I feel the pangs of jealousy simmering inside. Nino is still a sweating mess and doesn’t respond. Alicia shouts, “Nino! We need you to help us check the lady’s progress. Don’t stand there like a statue!”

Nino catches my eye and I can see he has an idea. I brace myself for the theatrics. He scratches his head and then doubles over, exaggerating every movement. “Boss! I-I-I think I have a bad tummyache.”

I suppress a laugh. “If you need to go, go.”

Nino motions to thank the lord, crossing himself, and darts outside. Then I realize what that snake was really up to. I’m going to get him back for this. But at least I can abate my curiosity.

I clear my throat. “Since Nino’s not here, I’ll let you practice on me.” 

Alicia and Miss Colvin both drop their jaws in shock. 

Alicia is the first to compose herself. "Uh.. are you sure, Boss?" I nod, and turn my attention to Miss Colvin. Alicia gets behind Miss Colvin and playfully pushes her toward me, while exclaiming, "Ok then!" She leans in the doorway to watch. Miss Colvin stumbles, but regains her footing and shyly meets my gaze.

I beckon to her. " _Andiamo_ , Miss Colvin."

Alicia snaps her fingers from the doorway and interjects, "We should recreate the nightclub atmosphere, boss! You could pretend to be a customer on the sofa, and she’ll be one of the showgirls. She'll use any means possible to get your attention. What do you think?" Alicia flits around and turns on the table lamps and turns down the dimmer on the large chandelier.

Miss Colvin stammers, "Th-that's not a good idea!"

I have every reason but absolutely no desire to object. "Sounds like a great idea." I walk over to the sofa and sit down, setting my drink on a coaster. Miss Colvin's eyes follow me, but she still doesn't move. She looks frozen in fear.

Alicia urges her, "Miss Colvin, what are you waiting for? Let's get started!" I can't help but smile at the situation.

Miss Colvin turns back to Alicia, "Must I practice on Mr. Puzo?" Alicia only responds with a smile. 

I reply to this situation, still smiling, "If you need help, I'm at your service." Miss Colvin looks like she could die of embarrassment. I find myself remembering the heat of her skin when I last held her in that dress, and my throat goes dry. 

She pulls her notes out from the top of her dress and studies it like I'm the last exam she needs to pass before graduation. She takes a deep breath and tries to get "into character". She folds her notes and starts fanning herself before sashaying over to my couch and sitting at the other end. She turns her legs towards mine, just barely touching. I feel my heart rate increasing, but I manage to keep my face calm. She's just practicing. It's ok. But she isn't talking… _Just a little push, then._

"What's your name?"

Miss Colvin looks a little shocked I'm playing along, but replies with a somewhat forced giggle, "Oh mister… you can call me Lisa." She fans herself with her notes before continuing, "It's not your first time here, is it? I've seen you around before. Actually, I just started not long ago, so I'm still new here. All the same, I've never seen a man like you..." 

I can feel my ears heating up, and reply, "Why do you say that?" I reach down for my drink and clear my suddenly dry throat. It's killing me.

Miss Colvin continues making her voice more breathy, "So handsome and so gentlemanly, I'm sure you have many admirers…" she reaches for my hand, but hers is trembling. She takes a fistful of her skirt fabric instead. She's sounding right, but her body language shows she's still terrified. _Why is she so afraid of me?_

I abandon my drink and grab her wrist to pull her closer. The sudden movement catches her off-guard and her other arm comes over and she rests her hand on my bicep. She turns over to the doorway. Alicia is gone. She turns back to me and has some trouble getting the words out, but I manage to hear, "A-actually, I admire you a lot… what do you think of me?" She turns her face to look into my eyes at the question. _Does she truly want to know, or is this part of the game?_

It's taking everything to keep my cool, but I unexpectedly exhale sharply when she meets my gaze. I clear my throat again and reply, "I've seen many women like you." I reach back down for my drink, thankful my voice didn't crack before getting some much needed moisture. I take a long sip and savor the burn of the liquor as it runs down my throat.

Clearly this wasn't the response Miss Colvin was prepared for. She grabs my drink and places her lips right where mine were on the glass. She takes a delicate sip. When she pulls the glass away, her lipstick leaves a visible mark on the surface. She sets my glass back down on the coaster. Her head turns back towards me and I spy her tongue dancing across her lips. I now have many regrets that we started this. Images of _mia uccellina_ won't be leaving my mind for a long time.

"If you knew me, you'd know I'm different from the other girls. I'd give my heart to you. Aren't you going to give me a chance?" I have no appropriate response for this. She gets up, and I can't help but follow the movements of her body. It doesn't help that she is wearing the dress that I first fantasized about her in. I feel my composure slipping. She turns away from me and continues, "If you won't, just pretend I never existed. I'm just a lonely showgirl. Maybe one day I'll disappear.." She made her voice sound so sad. Then she trips on her dress and falls down on the sofa, directly into me.

For a few moments we say nothing at all. This close, her perfume is overwhelming my senses. I can feel the heat from her breath on my cheeks. I swear I can hear her heartbeat. This feels so different without the leather barrier of my gloves. Her skin is softer than I imagined. Instinctively, I run my hand along her ribcage and up along her bare skin -- I had forgotten this dress revealed her whole back. Her skin warms to my touch and I feel her chest flush with heat. It's… intoxicating. She is a tropical paradise and we're just looking into each others' eyes. Like there's no other world outside of those mirrors into the soul. I want to stay right here forever. I feel her leg muscles shift as she squeezes my thigh. She's… she's getting too close. It would be so easy for my hand to slip down to her exposed leg. My pulse hammers through my veins. Desire is ensnaring my senses, telling me my clothes are choking me and smothering me. I feel the barest hint of friction, of a promise spoken into my core from her center. She's also slick with perspiration and her heavenly smell is everywhere. I burn with the thought of how sweet her skin would taste if I just set my mouth to devour...

Regrettably, my body starts reacting in a way that is predictable and I simply cannot keep doing this. Not with her. She's... she's just acting. I convince myself that moment wasn't real. Because I don't think I could handle it if it was. I sit up and gently push Miss Colvin off of me. She looks confused...and hurt. I am thankful for the dim lights to hide the physical response my body has. I need a smoke. Desperately. I fumble with the side table drawer and pull out a cigarette. I put it into my mouth automatically as I say the words that absolutely kill me to say: "I'm sorry, Miss Colvin."

She runs her hand over her hair and retreats back into her proverbial shell. I can feel her still staring at me. I can't bring myself to meet her gaze. I was too close to losing control over myself before doing something we would both regret in the morning.

"No, it's not your fault. I was careless," she says.

I flick the flint wheel on my lighter and watch for the flame. It doesn't take.

Apologetically she continues, "The practice was effective, thank you. Next time I could--"

I cut her off. She's beating herself up over this and it's my goddamn fault. I say flatly, "Sorry, I can't practice with you anymore. If you really need someone to practice with, I could send someone." Privately, I don't think she needs any more practice. I grab the pillow at my side and hug it to my lap, in search of….something. Still struggling with the lighter.

Miss Colvin gets up and looks around for anyone else, since I can't look her in the eye.

"Leonardo's in the kitchen. He'll take you back to the Sparrow Room."

Footsteps, Leo's engine roaring to life, and the crunch of gravel. Then….nothing but the crackling of the fire.

I finally manage to get a flame going and light the end of my cigarette. I take a deep drag off of it and feel myself relax. 

_Santo cazzo Madre di Cristo_! That was far too close for comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by VerdiWithin and astroAntagonist
> 
> Eternally indebted to Heliosalpha for asking exactly the right questions.
> 
> Note:  
>  _andiamo_ \- let's go  
>  _mia uccellina_ \- my little bird  
>  _Santo cazzo Madre di Cristo_ \- Holy f*cking mother of chr*st
> 
> Edit: 10-9-2020
> 
> 2nd Round Beta: Red


	14. Chapter 14

I can't bring myself to call Miss Colvin.

She keeps drawing me in, and it's too dangerous. Especially now. I stare moodily at the phone in the villa, daring it to ring. It doesn't.

Nino and Alicia didn't know how to react to my little meltdown. I still don't know how to react, myself. It feels like she’s left shards of herself embedded in my heart. I’ve never felt this way before. 

On the third day of no contact -- the ringer box sounds. I rush to the phone, my heartbeat rushing in my ears. I hear her breathing into the phone. After our...interaction, I'm certain I could pick her breathing out from a crowd.

"How are you, Miss Colvin?" 

There's a pause before she continues, "Hmm. I guess there's been some success. I got to know him. It's just that...we're not close yet."

I try to remain cool and distant, what she expects from me. "Hm, this is better than what I expected. After all, he's a very cautious man."

"Is that so? He didn't look like it. I thought... I wasn't attractive."

A soft laugh escapes me. _How could she not know the effect she had on me?_ “Worry not, Miss Colvin. You're not one to lack in the looks department."

Our conversation grinds to a halt, mired in awkward silence. I try to think of what would be comforting to her. I seem to have everything planned out to a T, even if right now I actually don't. But she needs to believe I do.

"I understand the current situation, Miss Colvin. Don't worry, I've made arrangements…"

"Mm... Okay. Goodbye, Mr. Puzo."

" _Arrivederci_ , Miss Colvin. Soon."

I hang up the receiver and think about what I could do. Juliano is the jealous type. I could push this along forcibly. But it would eat away at me, that thought of her having to be with him. But this was the plan, right? 

Nino stops by to drag me out of my miasma of self doubt. He brings me some arancini. Of course he did this to soften the blow that the Assembly has been moved up to the end of next month. Just after Juliano's birthday. We don't have much time. Weeks at best if he doesn't find another reason to move it up. I wonder if this has anything to do with the special prosecutor's office that was established.

I know what I have to do, but the thought makes my skin crawl. Shuddering with revulsion at the thought of his hands having to be on Miss Colvin. Dreading what's likely to come next as she gets closer to him.

\---

I have to see her. I select a shawl collar tuxedo with a backless vest, a new innovation to help keep the sweat away. Remembering how stifling hot I felt the last time I saw her directed me to dress accordingly. Some high waisted silk trousers and cap toe black patent leather shoes complete my basic look. Black tie dress code means I can't wear my beloved long silk ties, nor my silver tie clip. I tie a passable white silk bowtie and clip in my chatelaine to my vest, tucking my watch into the pocket on the side opposite. It's not quite spring yet, so I still wear my wool overcoat, and out of habit I put on my leather gloves.

Carmine drops me off at the entrance and pulls the car around. I go in ahead without him. The air in the Sparrow Room is hazy and thick with the various scents of different brands of cigars, ranging from botanical to harsh. The embers around the room as the cigars are enjoyed remind me of fireflies. It would almost look romantic if not for the competing smells breaking the illusion.

I take off my coat and sit down, facing the stage. The tables here are small, with elegant bentwood chairs at every table. The corners of the hall have larger sofas surrounding a coffee table for larger groups. I spot Juliano in the corner, sticking out in his ivory tuxedo with a red pocket square. He certainly likes being the center of attention.

Carmine joins me at the table, and brings me a club soda with lime. I want a drink, but I'll need to be sober to take in everything going on. 

The band starts up with a slow jazzy number before tiptoeing into a swing medley. The girls are dressed as sailors tonight, in blue and white dresses with long swing skirts and buttons sewn on to look like a naval uniform, a peek of striped fabric at their chest to draw the eye down complete with miniature dixie cup hats pinned to their perfectly coiffed hair. It feels like a strange take on _Anything Goes_ , the Cole Porter musical that only recently closed on the Great White Way. Miss Colvin is toward the left half of the stage. I can see her glancing at Juliano. Juliano looks up once or twice and shakes his head while smiling. He's interested, but not enough to bite. Towards the end of the song the girls all have their hands shielding their eyes, looking out and turning from one end of the audience to the other. Miss Colvin stops when she sees me, and everyone else keeps moving their heads. 

I smile and raise my glass to toast her. She remembers herself and tries to skip back into the dance routine. She is mostly successful.  
I look over at Juliano. He's looking around my area to see who caught Miss Colvin's eye. Failing to satisfy his curiosity, he spends the rest of the performance glaring at her.

\---

I repeat my visits for a few more nights. The songs and dances are a little different, but Juliano's gaze on Miss Colvin becomes increasingly predatory. He's inviting her for drinks at his table at the ends of her performances. She politely enjoys one drink before always returning backstage. 

\---

It's Saturday, and tonight is a little different. I have a few more of my boys in tonight in case something goes wrong. They’re enjoying themselves at least.

I don't see Miss Colvin in the group numbers. I start to wonder if something terrible happened until the last song. She emerges from the rich maroon drapes at the back of the stage. She's wearing a midnight blue silk dress that hugs her curves sinfully with a single slit completely exposing her right leg, which is adorned with a matching garter. I can feel my mouth watering. She commands the attention of every red-blooded male in the room. The band starts slow and she approaches the microphone. Every step is deliberate and confident. There's not a single man, myself included, who wouldn't be willing to remove that garter belt with their teeth for a chance to feel her shapely legs. She begins singing:

_Embrace me,  
My sweet embraceable you._

Miss Colvin is wrapping her long-gloved hand around her bare shoulders as she sings these sultry, pleading lines. 

_Embrace me,  
You irreplaceable you.  
Just one look at you, my heart grew tipsy in me.  
You and you alone bring out the gypsy in me._

She stretches her arms out to Juliano, who stares at her, completely transfixed.

_I love all  
The many charms about you,  
Above all,  
I want my arms about you.  
Don't be a naughty baby,  
Come to mama, come to mama, do!_

She winks and takes the microphone off the stand to address the rest of the audience.

_Dozens of guys would storm up,  
I had to lock my door,  
Somehow I couldn't warm up  
To one before.  
What was it that controlled me?  
What kept my love-life lean?_

Miss Colvin turns to me and locks sparkling hazel eyes on mine. Those splinters in my heart are sinking deeper..

_My intuition told me  
You'd come on the scene._

She places her gloved hand over her heart and taps her hand, gesturing out toward the end.

_Baby, listen to the rhythm of my heartbeat,  
And you'll get just what I mean._

She does a little kick and turns back to the stand to clip the microphone on before dancing across the stage for the instrumental bridge. Her movements are graceful and slinky, and I find myself thinking of a cat. She blows some kisses out into the audience before returning for the final verse.

_I love all  
The many charms about you,  
Above all,  
I want my arms about you.  
Don't be a naughty baby,  
Come to mama, come to mama, do!  
My sweet embraceable you._

The main drape flies in, showing it’s the end of the floor show for tonight. The applause is deafening.

I make a beeline to where Miss Colvin has descended from the stage every other time this week. She descends the stairs and is shocked to see me. _Non voglio beccare questa donna...in realtà...voglio beccare questa donna. Mi fa cagare._

I swallow. If this doesn’t work, nothing will. “Will you have dinner with me, Miss Lisa?”

Miss Colvin starts to respond, but Juliano comes in and posessively wraps his arm around her waist.

“Isn’t this Vittorio?” he sneers.

“Frank.” I nod stiffly.

“A rare guest,” he continues.

“I’ve been here a few times, actually.”

“What a pity that I’ve not run into you,” he spits out as a threat.

“Indeed.”

He lets go of Miss Colvin to clap me hard on the shoulder. “It’s been a while. Let’s get some drinks!”

I take his hand off of me, “Wait a moment. I haven’t received a reply from Miss Lisa.”

Juliano narrows his eyes at me, and then laughs menacingly. “Thank you for looking after my Lisa. Lisa, have you thanked Mr. Puzo?” He again pulls her violently close to him. Miss Colvin looks at me… I can’t tell if it’s out of longing, pleading, or fear. Some mixture of all three. 

I keep my cool and ask again. “Will you have dinner with me, Miss Lisa?”

“Do you not understand what I am implying, Vitto?” Juliano raises his voice and the Sparrow Room falls quiet. Several hands reach for guns around the room, some of them my boys, others I’m expecting are Juliano’s.

I wave my hand for them to stand down, and my guys put their guns away. “I don’t want to come to blows with you, Frank. I just admire Miss Lisa.”

Every head in the room turns to Miss Colvin at my statement. She’s a deer caught in every set of headlights. Juliano jostles her in his grip dripping with venom, “Answer him, Lisa. Are you going?” His smile is unsettling, and I see the fabric bunching at her side where he’s gripping her tightly. Miss Colvin looks to me nervously, but I give no sign or indication of what her answer should be. Even though part of me longs for her to say yes and let me take her out of here, we came here for a purpose. Her expected words shoot daggers into my heart.

“I...I’m sorry, Mr. Puzo…”

I want to hold her and tell her it’s ok. I can’t. “It’s alright, Miss Lisa. I hope we’ll have a chance next time.”

Juliano loosens his grip on Miss Colvin and pushes her away, toward me actually. I give her a friendly nod and leave with Juliano for the bar. I signal to the bartender to refill my existing drink. I still have no intention of drinking anywhere near Juliano. I overhear Mrs. Molly talking to Miss Colvin and I turn my head just enough to catch them out of the corner of my eye.

“Whatever you’re thinking, you better wise up, since you chose Mr. Juliano.”

Miss Colvin says softly, “But I rejected Mr…”

Mrs. Molly grabs her by the wrist to interrupt. “Stupid girl, The future’s not up to you. Let me give you some advice: you’d better make him happy or you’ll be in a worse position than Darya’s!” She lets go of Miss Colvin’s wrist and turns to mingle with the guests. Miss Colvin rubs her wrist and retreats backstage, bravely hiding her trepidation.

I slip back into my dispassionate mob boss face. Well that’s that. I excuse myself to find Carmine. It’s time to go back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by scholarlydragon, VerdiWithin, and astroAntagonist  
> I love you all :heart:
> 
> Thank you Hypatian for finding one of my note brackets I forgot to replace
> 
> Note:   
> *Embraceable You was written in 1929. For some reason no one ever sings the bridge lyrics.  
>  _Arrivederci_ \- Goodbye  
>  _Non voglio beccare questa donna_ \- I don’t want to hit on this woman  
>  _in realtà...voglio beccare questa donna_ \- actually, i do want to hit on this woman  
>  _Mi fa cagare._ \- expletive meaning literally this would make me sh*t, but used like we use f*ck in english.
> 
> Edit: 10-9-2020
> 
> 2nd Round Beta: Red


	15. Chapter 15

I'm miserable for days. I know why. Carmine knows why. Nino knows why. But I can't fix it.

Carmine goes back to the brownstone to keep my double moving as normal. I can't even imagine having the appetite to eat at Manny Wolf's these days. I'm tormented at night by increasingly graphic dreams that frustrate me worse than seeing Miss Colvin in person. I've depended on Leonardo's calls to keep me up to date. The updates have mostly been on Juliano's movements. He's been frequenting the Sparrow Room almost exclusively after my visit. My stomach turns at the thought.

\---

It's late. Stella comes downstairs and sees me with an overflowing ashtray and a handle in hand- no glass in sight. I look and feel like shit again. 

"Hey, you didn't have to be in a loony bin for three months. I should still be sulking here. Instead, I had time to think about how my behavior affected you, and affected your position. So why are you such a _monello lunatico_ , Vitto?"

I turn to meet her gaze. I say nothing and keep smoking my cigarette.

She wrinkles her nose and continues. " _Hai mangiato cadaveri?_ It smells like someone died in your ashtrays. When is the last time you ate anything?"

I shrug nonchalantly, sucking air. Cigarette must be done. I reach for the pack on the table. Stella rushes over and slaps it out of my hand.

"Seriously, Vitto what is wrong with you?"

I don't answer. I decide to take a drink from the handle of rum in my hand.

"Oh no you don't." She grabs that and puts it back in the wet bar. "What happened with your Miss Colvin from the other night? She blow you off? You don't get like this over girls, Vitto. You usually keep it in your pants and lord it over everyone else."

I cradle my face in my hands and look down. I guess that's how I look for everyone. Like I've got it all figured out and fuck everything else. Except that I don't know what I want right now, and I've been searching for answers through three packs of cigarettes and the handle of firey alcohol Stella confiscated. This isn't the answer she was looking for, and she smacks me with the flat of her hand upside the back of my head.

Briefly, I see stars. Stella glowers at me, furious.

I blink and shake my head. "No, she didn't blow me off."

"Then what the hell are you moping for?"

"I practically had to push her into Juliano's arms and I feel sick."

"But that's what your weird little plan was, wasn't it? 

"Yeah, but it feels wrong now." I try waving her away but she isn't having it. I start feeling the effects from too many drinks on an empty stomach.

Stella puts her hands on her hips, "Why?"

" _Because I'm fuckin' obsessed with her and she's probably having to sleep with that asshole and it's my own goddamn fault!_ " The room feels like it's rattling….or maybe it's my head. Throat is screaming for water.

"And this," She gestures to my magnificent mess of cigarette butts and empty bottles, "is how a fearsome mob boss - _Il Grande Lupo_ \- acts when he's pulling off his espionage successfully?"

I hate to admit it, but she's right. What the fuck am I doing? 

"Even if she's sleeping with him, you both agreed on this being necessary to get Juliano. Elizabeth's a big girl. She's got some...weird ideas, but she's an adult. Let her make her decisions about what she needs to do, and you trust that she's ok with it. I know I'm not the best one in this department, but I've had a lot of time to think since coming home, Vitto." 

As I wallow in my own self-pity, I hear some clinking of glass and the sound of running water. And then everything is ice cold, and wet. I’m gasping for air while drowning on my own sofa.

Stella has splashed a glass of water over my head. I look up, angry, and she hands me a second glass, this one to drink. I drain it and hand her back the empty glass.

"And maybe if you weren't stuck in your own spiral -- and thank the stars none of your boys have seen you like this -- you would have seen there's a letter for you. And it looks like her handwriting."

Stella pulls out a letter from her apron pocket and waves it at me. I reach for it and Stella steps away.

"Take a bath, Vitto. Put yourself together first. Then I'll let you have this, _stupido uomo_ "

I grumble and go to the bathroom to comply.

\---

I hate when Stella, of all people, is right.

I do feel a lot better after showering and putting on a fresh set of clothes. The hot water eased my headache and the tension melted away. I still have bags under my eyes, but I feel a lot more human. Probably from Stella drawing my thoughts out of my head. At least they're not trapped in there anymore. I continue toweling off my hair as I exit my bedroom and Stella hands me the letter. I, perhaps too eagerly, tear into it.  
_  
Mr. Puzo,_

_Mr. Juliano is increasingly aggressive with me. The first time he took me to dinner he was getting a little grabby. I instinctively pushed him away, he demanded an explanation. He accused me of wanting to pick you instead. I had to tell him that I didn't want to pick either of you because I wanted to get out of the Sparrow Room._

_He seemed to accept this, but warned me that he punishes those who lie to him severely. He ordered one of his men to pour our wine and it spilled. Mr. Juliano lost his head and shot him dead._

_I'm scared, but I know this sort of thing must be normal in your world. I haven't found an opportunity to call you yet, but I will try. I haven't seen Leo in days since he 'took me on a date'. I'm getting worried, but I will keep my investigation going as long as I can._

_I wrote this in secret and plan to drop it with the mailman directly._

_Sincerely,_

_E._

I should have realized she'd taken down the address to be able to correspond in other ways. I'm relieved she's ok, and it sounds like she's still not ...intimate...with Juliano beyond dates and kisses. I'm a little guilty about that knowledge making me feel good. 

The phone rings. It's Leo.

"Boss, he's having some kind of celebration tomorrow at the Sparrow Room. I think he invited you along with the other Family bosses."

There's only two reasons Juliano would celebrate. He offed someone big or he got another crime family into the Commission. My gut tells me it's the former. I heard rumblings not too long ago about someone eager to make a hit on the special prosecutor's office. They're planning something big, and they keep looking into Juliano's businesses.

"Anything else, Leo?"

"No, not at the moment. Please check on my Ma, okay?"

"I will. See you soon."

I hang up the receiver and go to look at the day's other mail Stella left on the counter before holding Miss Colvin's letter hostage. I see an exquisitely penned cream colored envelope. It is, as expected, an invitation to the event Juliano is hosting. When I see the location, The Back Room, I know it's mostly for Family. It's tomorrow night. I have enough time for getting my head right.

\---

The Back Room. Or rather, Ratner's Back Room. We used it a lot in the 20s, because it was an illicit venue providing drinks in an upscale atmosphere in the back of Ratner's Restaurant. The myriad exits available also made it a popular choice whenever the cops wanted to shake it down. Made it exceedingly easy to get away.

I arrive at Ratner's, according to the dress code, I wear my tuxedo with a black bowtie this time. I'm not a fan of the satin lapels, but it's a look. I have my snub nosed Smith & Wesson in my shoulder holster. I'm hoping this is a short event, but knowing Juliano, he's going to want to drag this out.

I grab a drink and make my way over to the usual corner of the ballroom that makes up Ratner's Back Room, a sumptuous interior keeping with the Roaring Twenties, including lively atmosphere. From the chatter it sounds like I pegged the reason for the festivities correctly. One of the other capos wanted to bump off someone in government, so he got whacked instead. Juliano took over his rackets. Hail to the leader who is still a leader without assuming the boss of bosses title. What a hypocritical ass.

I get an old-fashioned and start nursing my drink at the armchair near the sofa. Or rather, I planned to. Someone had to interrupt me.

"Yo, Vitto! Why are you sitting here? I could spot you from a mile away!"

I turn towards the familiarly grating voice. It's Juliano. I wasn't prepared for who he had in tow.

Miss Colvin.

She's wearing that black ruffle number where the hem stops above her knees and the rest of the dress hugs her curves tightly like I wish I could. I am again thankful for the atmospheric lighting.  
She initially looks happy to see me, but I think I was imagining it.

"Of course I'd be here. Congratulations, Frank."

Juliano flops down onto the sofa opposite my armchair and pats his leg, indicating where he wants "Lisa" to sit. He wraps his arm around her possessively, like a dragon guarding his hoard.

"Haha, thanks! Lisa, say hi to Mr. Puzo."

Miss Colvin stutters out a weak "Hi, Mr. Puzo."

"Hey, babe, why are you so shy? You weren't like this a few days ago…" Juliano pulls at her waist to sit her further back on his lap. Miss Colvin is silent. I drain my drink and catch the water going around with flutes of champagne.

"Vitto, you think I've trained this girl well? She doesn't just have a pretty face. Even the parts you don't see are good too."

I manage to wave down the waiter and grab a glass. Juliano pinches her bottom and Miss Colvin flinches, struggling to keep her smile. My blood boils at his treatment of her. _La mia passerotta dovrebbe essere adorato..._

Miss Colvin strokes Francesco's face, murmuring, "Come on darling, don't be like this. Mr. Puzo is watching." At the mention of my name, Juliano pinches her again and she yelps quietly.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Vitto, the last time we were at the Sparrow Room, you mentioned you liked Lisa, right?" He pulls out a cigar and clips the end with a cutter. "Hahaha, sadly Lisa chose me in the end. How unfortunate." He puts the cigar in his mouth and lights a match, warming the end of the cigar before puffing on it to stoke the ember into sustaining itself. He pulls out the cigar and grabs Miss Colvin by the chin, and moves his face in close. As soon as she felt his touch turn her face, she plastered the smile back on and pursed her lips. 

This whole thing is making me physically ill. The way she has to keep carrying on like this. The fact that Juliano is the sorest winner there is. She deserves better. I keep telling myself her investigation is worth it. That lie almost keeps me calm until the sloppy makeout sounds reach my ears. Until I see his hand snaking under her dress.

 _I can't do this._ I can't keep up this charade when Juliano knows exactly how to push my buttons. I drain my flute and smash it against the tile floor in a fit of pique.

Everything in The Back Room stops.

Juliano is the first to break the silence, "Vitto...what is the meaning of this?"

That little break in my composure released some steam, I clamp the rest of my rage down, smoothing my vest and toying with the buttons to calm myself until I can get out of here. I reply cooly, "Frank, you bumped the table by accident."

We stare at each other silently, my jaw working tightly before I decide I can't even hold the rage down anymore.

"Alright Frank, you have fun. I have to make a move."

"Vitto, have I not been a good host? You're leaving so soon." His stare could cut through a lesser man.

I pull out a cigarette from my case and light up. I give a wave before leaving. _Quello che uno stronzo._

I hail a cab to head to the brownstone. I get inside and once I hear the door latch click, I punch the brick facade hard enough to bloody my knuckles. 

I probably blew her cover, or came real fucking close to it. _Per cosa?_ For her doing what we agreed on? Stella was right. This is what we both wanted.

I just hope I can hold on long enough. I just hope that I didn't ruin everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by VerdiWithin and astroAntagonist
> 
> note: Ratner's Back Room can still be visited today as "The Backroom Pub" in NYC. It was favored by many of the most recognizable names in the Mob/Mafia underworld.  
>  _monello lunatico_ \- moody brat  
>  _Hai mangiato cadaveri?_ \- itl. Slang - you have bad breath. (literally means did you eat dead bodies??)  
>  _La mia passerotta dovrebbe essere adorato..._ \- My sparrow should be adored  
>  _stupido uomo_ \- stupid man  
>  _Quello che uno stronzo_ \- What an asshole  
>  _Per Cosa?_ \- For What?
> 
> Edit: 10-9-2020
> 
> 2nd Round Beta: Red


	16. Chapter 16

I don't hear from either Miss Colvin or Leo for three days. I'm tempted to get blackout drunk and chainsmoke again. But I remember how much of a pain it is to clean that up in the villa by myself. I still have cleaning staff going to the Brownstone but they like to ask questions…I decide to try and get some sleep. I look a little better, but still not one hundred percent.

I'm getting more and more uneasy about leaving Juliano alive. Councilman Harris, his buddy, is rising in the polls due to his lovely daughter Charlotte continuing to play the doting daughter role. After all his power consolidation, he may be able to pull us all down into riskier businesses. I wonder if I can convince Miss Colvin of the necessity for Juliano's inevitable demise. 

I remember my promise to Leonardo and dial his home number upstate.

"Hello, Columbo residence." His Ma is ever charming over the telephone.

"Hello Mrs. Columbo. It's Leonardo's friend. Leo wanted me to call you to check in on you. He says he misses you."

"Oh yes, yes. I have the best boy. He grew up big and strong. Tell him to visit me more often!"

"I will. Have a pleasant day, Mrs. Columbo."

She seemed a little odd in that call, like she was listening for something.

I put a pin in that thought for later and hang up the receiver. I drum my fingers against the countertop and flinch when the phone rings.I'm nearly on top of the ringer box. I pick up the phone and I'd recognize that breathing anywhere.

"Mr. Puzo, it's me." My heart rate quickens.

"Are you in trouble?"

A pause. "That man trusts me now, I don't have to go on stage anymore." My mind immediately wanders to what she had to do. "I...I have new information, I thought you should know."

I pause.

"That's good, I have something for you too."

"Then shall we…"

I don't let her finish. "When are you available? I will send someone to get you."

"I'm free for the next few days, since I don't have to go on stage. Juliano won't be looking for me either…"

"Tomorrow morning at ten then, I will send someone to wait for you at the usual spot."

"But you won't be able to use Leonard to get me again. I'm seen as Juliano's lover now."  
I cringe inwardly. "If Leonard comes again, he'll be in danger when Juliano finds out."

I think, where would a mafia moll dating Juliano would go? It's got to be ritzy enough to have a chauffeur. Oh yes. "Don't worry, if anyone asks, you just need to say that you're going to Delos Hair Salon."

"Just like that? Alright…" I hear her hang up.

I'll have to make a few more phone calls.

I dial Leonardo back. He picks up on the first ring.

"Yeah, Boss?"

"Can you get a chauffeur uniform?"

\---

It's the next morning. I had trouble sleeping.

Miss Colvin arrives at my house, with a disguised Leonard in tow. Miss Colvin has her notebook in hand, dressed in a simple blue gingham day dress that prioritizes comfort over spectacle. I still catch myself staring when she steps over the threshold. 

I smile weakly. "You can go first, what do you have for me?"

"When I asked Juliano about a dancer named Darya, he mentioned he has a more lucrative business elsewhere. He called that place 'Paradiso' but the girls at the nightclub call it 'The Basement.' Prostitutes like Darya are taken there, and also regular women and even girls from all around the world. Juliano will make sure all customers are satisfied, regardless of their... preferences. Wherever Juliano found those women and children, there must be more to this." 

I'm reminded again of her first article that led us to this point. Jessica's daughter went missing from school. Her father was killed on duty. Miss Colvin suspected Rossi had the answers since he took Jessica's belongings after she died. While I have a strong idea, I have no hard evidence to point her to. I still have to keep this from her and it pains me.

"I've never heard of that place, but I will send someone to investigate." I'll need to tread very carefully with who I send. There's every chance that there could be bigger repercussions if it's a recognizable member of my Family.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Puzo. There’s something else."

“Go on.”

“I...I mentioned Mr. Rossi in front of Juliano. While it seems to be a particularly sore subject for him.” She winces when recalling the event, but continues. “He did admit that he had Rossi killed. Ultimately.”

"At least you have some resolution there. Now, listen to what I have to tell you."

"Please, go on."

"I am going to put a hit on Juliano, you can be my person on the inside."

She abruptly stops writing and drops her pen, stuttering, "Put a hit? D-d-do you mean killing him? What, why??" She recoils in shock at what I’m suggesting.

"The reason is, at Juliano's insistence, the meeting between the New York families has been brought forward."

"Is this meeting very important?"

"Of course. They call it the Assembly, and it is held once every three years. The families all get together to discuss their business direction for the next few years. It was due to be held a year and half later, but it's been brought forward to next month."

"Why...why did Juliano do that?"

I wish I knew the exact answer, but at least this is most of Juliano's motivation for everything. "Money, power, everything you can think of."

She meets my gaze. She looks...conflicted.

"You have concerns, _mia Passerotta_?"

"Do we have to kill him? When I gather enough evidence, the law will deal with him."

I laugh. We're here because the law will not deal with him. "Elizabeth Colvin, what are you thinking? Do you actually think the police will put Juliano in jail?"

Her normally confident voice falters. "If...I can find enough evidence, they will." She seems to be saying that more for her benefit than mine. I cross the room to sit on the other end of the sofa she’s on.

"Even now, you don't know how things are done in New York. Do you know why Juliano can demand the Assembly be brought forward?"

"... I don't know"

"It's because of his relationship with Councilman Harris." The election is soon. That must be exactly why he pulled it forward. He wanted to make a show of this. I mull over what is safe to reveal.

"What? They know each other?" She's scribbling notes in her notebook at this.

"They've had many illegal dealings together, _dolcezza_. The support for Councilman Harris is very high in this election. If he is re-elected, Juliano will continue to work with him. In recent years, Juliano has been trying to expand his drug and human trafficking business. However, his suggestions have never gotten the support of the other families."

"Drugs and human trafficking? How awful…"

"His business has been booming in recent years, thanks to Harris." I think of his Tiger Charity Foundation, my fingers idly tapping my knee.

"You mean Councilman Harris is involved in that stuff, too?"

"Of course. The relationship between Juliano and Councilman Harris is an open secret. If we don't stop him, there is a good chance his suggestions will be taken up in this meeting. Do you still think we can depend on the law to punish Juliano? I know you want to find the truth, but you have to understand: New York's legal system does not have a hold on Juliano at all. On the surface, he has a profitable business relationship with Councilman Harris. How many more people in power is he secretly connected to?"

Miss Colvin looks dejected, and I long to gather my little _Passerotta_ in my arms, if only to comfort her.

"Even if you find the evidence, Juliano can smooth things over easily. And your identity will be exposed. Do you know what kind of danger you will be in?"

Miss Colvin sees the intensity in my eyes, and then moves her eyes to the floor.

"If the hit goes as planned, Juliano will pay for his crimes all the same. As for the truth... when Juliano falls, I'm sure it'll be easier for you to uncover the things that are hidden." This tastes like a lie I am telling myself.

"Mr. Puzo, this...If I can find the evidence during this time, maybe…" She still looks unsure.

"If you insist. I hope things go the way you want them to." 

Just then, a knock at the door. Nino pokes his head in to say, "Boss, it's time." He taps his watch.

"Miss Colvin, we have to part. Leonard will send you back."

She glances back at me reluctantly before leaving with Leonardo. I can’t shake the feeling that something bad is gonna happen. I pull out a cigarette and light it, taking a long relaxing drag. 

Stella comes down the stairs. “I thought I heard Elizabeth. Is she already gone, _Lupo_?” 

I nod, and stare at the end of my cigarette.

Nino comes back in. “Hey Boss, not to bother you or anything, but didn’t you tell her to say she was going to Delos?”

“What about it?” I’m not in the mood.

Stella interjects, “You didn’t send her away with her hair exactly the same, did you?”

_Oh cazzo._

\---

My little oversight didn’t go unnoticed. I get a call from Leonard. 

“Boss, it’s me. We might have messed up.”

“Leo, please get out of there. I can’t have your death on my conscience, I fucked this up.”

“Then don’t. Have Ma keep my bed warm for me. I’m coming home soo-”

We never finish our phone call. I hear the receiver on his end strike the wall, and the sounds of a struggle.

It never gets easier, does it? 

I dread the next phone call.

Every digit feels like an eternity to dial. 

"Hello, Columbo Residence."

"Mrs. Columbo, hello. Leo wanted me to tell you to keep his bed warm for him."

" _Per favore dimmi che hai fatto un errore_ …" I hear sobbing on the other end. This must have been a code Leo had to keep his Ma safe.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Columbo, but that is what he told me." I hang up the receiver.

My heart is breaking for her, because she knows what Leo was conveying to her. When I heard that struggle on the phone, Leo already knew he was done for. He always felt like he owed me for something, and now…

And now he is as good as dead because I was careless.  
I'm used to these sorts of events feeling more like chess moves with an opponent. Losing pieces can be advantageous sometimes. And yet, I'm having trouble seeing the advantage in this.

I leave the Villa for the Brownstone, my heart heavy. I need some time alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by VerdiWithin and astroAntagonist
> 
> AO3 hiccuped last night when uploading. It's fixed now. My punishment for having several new draft chapters uploaded at the same time.
> 
> Notes:  
>  _mia passerotta_ \- my sparrow  
>  _dolcezza_ \- Sweetness  
>  _Lupo_ \- Wolf  
>  _Cazzo_ \- Expletive, meaning sh*t or how Americans use f*ck  
>  _Per favore dimmi che hai fatto un errore_ \- please tell me you made a mistake (formal)  
>  _Paradiso_ : paradise, but in italian. I think Juliano would have picked the name that has a better ring to it.
> 
> Edit: 10-9-2020
> 
> 2nd Round beta: Red


	17. Chapter 17

I have no confirmation of Leo's death, and that unsettles me. It's been hard to think of ways into Paradiso without raising suspicion. We might need to find someone new, or turn someone who already goes. I turn my head toward the window, craving sunlight, but finding none.

It feels like it's been days since I've last relaxed. I'm boiling water for tea when there's a knock at the door. _Curiouso_. Only two people know I'm here.

"Vitto, I need you." In my darkest fantasies, I never thought her voice would ever utter those words.

Miss Colvin is at the door. She's shivering, her coat soaked completely through, her normally bouncy hair plastered to her head. 

It's hard to hide the worry on my face. "What's happened? Why didn't you call?"

She looks at me meekly, responding, "I did call. You weren't there. They...they told me you were here...so I came."

I curl my arm around her and usher her inside. She's still shivering as she stands on the doormat. I hurry to the linen closet to grab a few towels. Wrap one around her trembling form and start toweling her off until she stops dripping. Lead her to the couch with a fresh towel. I head back to the bathroom to stow away the wet towel in the laundry basket.  
Briskly, I head to the kitchen to grab my abandoned cup and to pour her a mug of hot water. Bringing her my tea chest. She selects the lavender tea and dunks it into the china cup. Not my preferred method of brewing, but I didn't know what she liked.

We sit quietly, though I start tapping my foot to alleviate some of my nervous energy. Her breathing evens out and we take in the delicious aroma of the lavender sachet as it steeps. I sip from my rather tepid vessel.

"Come, _Passerotta_ , now , can you tell me what happened?"

She tenses up at this. "H-H-he wants to kill you, Vitto. I'm so afraid. He thinks that I'm not sleeping with him because you're still alive. I mean that's...he’s not exactly wrong but…" She looks away from me, worrying her fingers at each other.

I'm very curious about her last statement. It's no secret Juliano wants me dead. I'm the only Family leader who has the balls to oppose him publicly. But what does she mean by not exactly wrong? I have to know.

"Could you… elaborate, Miss Colvin?"

She looks into my eyes. "Please, call me Elizabeth,” she pleads. “I know you're being polite, but just... use my name. I'm so tired of being Lisa the object from New Jersey. You’re so formal when you don’t need to be. I want to simply be Elizabeth, the reporter from New York."

I suppose living as 'Lisa' every day has taken its toll. I still have to live every day as Vittorio Puzo. "Fair enough. Elizabeth, could you elaborate on what you meant by 'not exactly wrong'? Am... _I_ the reason you're not sleeping with Juliano?"

She blushes before continuing, lightly biting her lips and likely not understanding how badly I want to bite them instead "Yes. That, and he shot a man dead at dinner. It's hard to sleep with a murderer."

I deflate a little. Maybe I misread this. "Miss... Elizabeth, I'm not exactly innocent of taking a life either."

"Yes, but you regret them...don’t you?"

Not all of them, only the innocent bystanders. "Maybe, but why would I be stopping you?"

She starts fuming with frustration, but holds it in and looks around. Oh, she thinks someone's here. She pouts, and I find it adorable, fixated again upon her lips.

"We're alone, Elizabeth. Speak your mind." I resist the urge to tease her, but only just barely.

At this, she lets loose. "Because the only way I can stand to be around him is imagining it's you!" She breathes rapidly and grabs her cooling tea to drink and collect herself again after this admission. Her little outburst seems to have thoroughly ruffled her. She can’t be still, and she puts her tea down again.

I'm...stunned. She...imagines he's me? She...wants me? I get up and move over to the couch and tip her chin up to look into her hazel eyes. Her pupils dilate and she holds her breath, looking at me rapt, waiting for a response.

My mind goes back to the last time we were on this couch together. I had felt hot under the collar when she fell onto me during her "practice." Had to push her away because I wasn't sure if she was comfortable getting that close. I remember the surprise in her eyes and the heavenly smell of her perfume. I reminisce for maybe a little too long, I feel that pressure starting in my chest and working its way down below.

"Have you been with anyone before, Miss Col...Elizabeth? Sorry, bad habit."

"Nothing that lasted very long," she says quietly. I practically feel the heat of her blush from here. "I've wanted you since we practiced flirting."

My heart is hammering in my chest. How many nights had my mind tortured me, hoping, and waiting? I smile and reply, "The feeling, you'll be relieved to hear, is mutual."

She is positively euphoric at this response. She keeps her eyes locked to mine as she closes the distance between us. Grabbing me by my tie tugging me closer, crashing our lips together. We melt into each other. She tastes of her lavender tea and the chance of redemption. This feels like wiping my slate clean...for once. It's so blissful to be wanted. We break from our kiss and I feel her skin, positively radiating with heat. It doesn't remember it was trembling and cold in the rain. I decide that I want her to forget ever being cold again.

I strip off her damp jacket and toss it to the other end of the couch. She's wearing a rather conservative blazer with a pencil skirt. I peel that off to reveal her blouse. I run my hands under this layer, and she is warm everywhere. I feel my skin growing hot, and my clothes feeling oppressive. She's hungry, too, but I can see she wants to savor this moment.

Elizabeth loosens my tie, whipping it out of the collar and dashing it to the ground. Her slender fingers make quick work of my shirt, pulling it up and out of my trousers. My shirt is thrown to the floor. She smirks at me before pushing me down to the couch. Normally, I'd be bothered by someone being this aggressive with me, but I've been pining after her for so long, thinking it was completely one-sided that I'll let this slide. Elizabeth starts nibbling my neck. Jolts of pleasure arc through my body in response, and the fabric of my trousers is dangerously close to its limit. She straddles me, and upon feeling my hardness, starts to grind against me, as if she is also seeking that delicious friction. Her delighted gasps confirm our shared desire. It is painful and wonderful all at once.

I push myself up, her hands on my chest no hindrance, and kiss her neck up to her ear. My tongue circles the outer arc of her delicate shells. She moans in response. I continue my ministrations trailing a line of kisses down her collarbone and unbuttoning her blouse at long last. I continue my journey down to her waistline where her skirt starts. She shudders and places a hand on my shoulder, gently pushing me away.

"Could we, ah… could we move to someplace more comfortable?" She blushes furiously at having to ask the question. I'm glad for the control being given back to me, but annoyed that I hadn't considered this sooner so we wouldn't be interrupted.

I hook my left arm under her knees and rest her on my right, cradling her shoulder. She drapes her arms around my neck. I hold her close to my chest through the hallway to my bedroom. I'm pleased that she makes no protests, completely trusting that I will take care of her. I gently lay her on my too-small mattress. 

"Sorry it's not very roomy, I don't often have visitors."

Her hands slide to my shoulders and she looks a little...lost.

"I don't want to think of the details, Vitto. I just want to feel how much you wanted me. I thought I was so alone, and I..."

I stop her with a poorly reigned-in kiss. "You're not alone." I won't leave her confused about my feelings ever again. It's not how I imagined this happening, but I can't leave her in doubt if we're going to continue this dangerous game with Juliano.

\---

"That was...that was very much needed, Vitto. Thank you." She has a bashful smile at this statement.

I kiss her cheek. I couldn't agree more. It wasn’t exactly what I expected out of our meeting today, but it was a welcome surprise. 

She crawls over to my lap and lays her head in it. I reach over to hold her close to me, and she clasps my hand, turning it over to study my palm. My other hand softly strokes her hair. For once, the world is quiet.

“Vitto? Can I ask why you call me _passerotta_ or _uccellina_?”

I laugh softly, “Because I already call my sister a pigeon.”

“You’re calling me a chick?”

Hmm. “Not exactly, just a little sparrow. You should sleep, though. I’ll take care of cleaning up.”

I let Elizabeth sleep because she looked exhausted. Once she dozes off, I gently position her, replacing my lap with a pillow. Tucking her in with my thin cotton blanket.

I get up to grab my shirt from the living room to put it back on, tucking it into my slacks. I gather her still damp clothes from the couch, and return to the bedroom for her skirt. Then over to the laundry room to wash her clothes with the bar of castile soap I keep in there. After many rounds of swishing and wringing in the utility sink, I cleaned her clothes and hung them by the fire to dry. All so I could send her back into certain danger, into the arms of a man I despise. I woke her up so she was able to head back as soon as her clothes were ready to avoid suspicion in being out so late. She was afraid of giving in to Juliano before settling how we felt about each other. I feel oddly at ease in that respect. Juliano may have 'Lisa Dawson,' but I have Elizabeth.

Kenny's Laundry is finally ready for me to use as a base away from home, so I ready a bag to bring over there with my essentials. I was prepared to not see her for a week. I had time. To my surprise she calls me, only two days since our tryst, in a panic.

"Vittorio, it's me. I. So much happened today." I hear her crying and the image of tears running down her sweet face twists my heart.

"Elizabeth, calm down! What happened?"

"Leonard.. is dead. It was.. me.. Juliano...he made me...." She chokes back a sob. "I let him down. Oh my goodness, what have I done…"

I suppose this was inevitable after our very last phone call. I wondered how long he stayed alive before Juliano got fed up. Leonardo doesn't crack under anything. "I'm sorry, Elizabeth. But don't blame yourself, this is our fate."

"Sorry, I…. Damnit, I thought I was prepared for this." She sniffles. "But...everything happened t-too fast... too real...I really, I-I want to see you.." She's progressed to hiccuping while crying. I want to hold her close and stroke her hair, telling her everything will be okay, my little _Passerotta_. But maybe that wouldn't be helpful right now.

"You can. But... after what happened to Leonard, we need to be even more careful."

Well, I can bring her to the hideout at Kenny's Laundry.

"Bring some clothes out with you tomorrow. If anyone asks, you are going out for lunch and need to send some clothes to the laundry on the way. Go to Salumi on Kinney Street. Order  
something, then call me from the public phone by the bar. Can you remember that, Elizabeth?"

"I'll remember." I almost hear her nodding through the phone. _Brava ragazza_.

"Don't worry. No matter what happens, we'll take them on. See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by VerdiWithin, Scholarly Dragon, and astroAntagonist
> 
>  _Curiouso_ \- curious.  
>  _Passerotta_ \- sparrow  
>  _uccellina_ \- Little bird  
>  _Brava ragazza_ \- Good Girl
> 
> Edit: 10-9-2020
> 
> 2nd Round Beta: Red


	18. Chapter 18

It's a bit of a whirlwind. Elizabeth’s confirmation of Leo's death came as no surprise. His Ma already knew from the message I sent. It's hard to tell how long he hung on until Juliano made her shoot him.

I have to move to the new hideout. This would have been more useful earlier, and maybe I even could have prevented Leo's death. Maybe if I paid more attention to the cover stories I provided… no. I can't let my thoughts take over. We all live on borrowed time, especially in this line of work. And at least...at least there is Elizabeth. Who sees me as I am and for some reason, still wants me.

I finish packing my things and call up Nino to tell him it's time. He comes to pick me up from the brownstone. As I’m throwing bags back into the trunk, he asks the expected, “How’s Leo doing?”

“Nino, Leo’s gone. He knew it too.” I speak flatly, almost like this answer came from a machine. I had already mourned his death when our phone call ended, but he didn’t die until last night. Have to feel numb about these things. Otherwise there’s no way to move on.

Nino shakes his head and pulls out a cigarette. “You tell his Ma upstate?”

“Yeah. Leo gave me a message to pass to her so she knew.”

“We’re always on borrowed time, ain’t we, Boss?”

"It seems so." 

The rest of the ride is uneventful. Kenny’s Laundry is in Suffern, north of the city. I like it because the mountains are close by, making it a quiet place. The hideout is a small cabin with a gun range. I needed a place for practice if we were going to take this shot seriously. Carmine knows to patch through any calls Miss Colvin makes to me at the Brownstone up here. 

Nino derails my train of thought, asking, “When’s the next time Miss Colvin is seeing you?”

Right. Elizabeth. “Tomorrow. But I don’t want to expose any more people to trouble. Wait for Kenny’s Laundry to call us, first. They’re in the village center. You’ll get Elizabeth from there to bring her here. I’ve bought a cab driver to be ready to pick her up from Salumi’s and drop her back off later. He wasn’t interested in asking questions after I offered him enough money.”

“Greasin’ the wheels keeps the whole thing movin’, Boss. Wait, when did Miss Colvin become _Elizabeth?_ ”

“That is none of your business, Nino.” I glare at him pointedly in the rearview mirror.

We pull up to the cabin. It’s got a very cozy facade - stacked logs like you’d expect. Inside there’s some furniture and a stocked pantry. Worth the wait. At least it’s easier to watch for suspicious folks out here, and easy to buy the local law enforcement so they look the other way. Greasing the wheels indeed. Especially since we built a small gun range near the edge of the property, backed with a large berm for stopping the ammunition. The hope is that we’ll be at a close enough range that it won’t matter, but practice helps.

\---

It’s about ten in the morning when Carmine patches Elizabeth’s call through.

“Vitto...Mr. Puzo, it’s me. I’m at Salumi.” She still sounds a little nervous, but better than yesterday.

“Enjoy your lunch first, _Passerotta_. An hour later, go to the back of the restaurant, and take the taxi with the plate number ending in 287. It’ll bring you to a safe place.”

“O-Okay.” Still nervous sounding. I wish I could tell her it’s all going to be OK.

“Don’t worry, Elizabeth, We’ll see each other soon.”

“Uh huh…”

“See you in a bit.”

I dial Carmine to tell him to call our pre-paid driver. Now...I just have to wait. I take a look at what was dropped off for food, and find a few things that catch my eye: broccoli, pine nuts, shallots, garlic, breadcrumbs, pecorino, and olive oil. I decide to make myself some broccoli pasta. I don’t have any bucatini like my Nonna would have made, but I have some dried penne. I have never been good at making my own pasta, and it’s been more convenient to buy it, even if the shape isn’t exactly right. I add in some sausage because goodness knows I like adding meat wherever I can. It’s so cheap here in America, it feels like a crime not to. The cooking helps to pass the time, and calms me.

Life here in the States is extremely convenient, but I do long for simpler days. It’s true that our line of work is lucrative, but that's only because of the high risk we take just continuing to live. I wonder if it’s worth leaving the reins to someone else eventually. Maybe if Juliano is gone, I would feel more comfortable with that idea. That monster… he probably made her shoot Leo as a test of loyalty. What a _bastardo malato_ I ruminate on this while eating my pasta in the otherwise serene atmosphere. 

As I’m finishing, the roar of an engine and the tires kicking up dirt alert me to Nino’s return. I open the door to them both and welcome them in. Nino, smelling the pasta, makes a beeline straight for the kitchen. Elizabeth sits on the sofa looking at her hands, refusing to make eye contact with me. I go to the kitchen to grab two glasses of water, and I set them on the coffee table. I sit down next to her on the couch.

“Vittorio...I…” Poor kid is trying not to cry.

“ _Mia Passerotta_ , relax. Drink some water, calm down.” Seeing that she’s still looking down, I tap on the table near the water glasses. She takes one and takes a huge gulp. Her breathing evens out. My hand touches her chin and I tilt her head up just enough to meet her eyes. She smiles weakly and takes a deep breath before continuing. I lightly rub her chin with my thumb as she speaks.

“I’m better now. It happened so suddenly. I tried asking Juliano about the brothel he opened - Paradiso- and he didn’t seem to mind. But after I mentioned Rossi, he reacted very strongly and got suspicious. That led to what happened later.”

I move my hand to grasp her gloved fingers. I need her to know she isn’t alone. _I don’t want her to feel alone._ She smiles her weak little smile and pushes on in her speech.

“I thought I had him fooled, but he wasn’t. I should have left the Rossi thing alone after the first time. He found out Leonardo might be linked to you, and forced me to… to…” She stares through me, as if seeing something far, far away that has her attention. She speaks the next part so quietly, to keep herself from sobbing again. “Forced me to sh...k-kill... Leonardo...Oh heavens...What have I done?” She breaks down and buries her face in my chest, full on sobbing. I wrap my other arm around her trembling form and rub my thumb along her shoulder blade, still holding her hand tight while she gets through this moment. I wonder if this is the first time since then that she’s felt able to cry? I feel a tight squeeze in my chest at the idea. 

We sit like this for a few minutes. Her crying into my shirt and me just trying to help her keep it together. I break the silence.

“It’s not your fault. It’s Juliano’s fault. Leonardo wouldn’t blame you, so stop blaming yourself, alright?” If anything, he should have blamed me. My cover story for them was probably what tipped them off. I cursed myself for not thinking of one better. Elizabeth’s tears slow, and she looks for a handkerchief. I give her my pocket square. Don’t care if she gets makeup on it. I just want her to feel better. She looks into my eyes and sees...something.

“Vitto, I want to avenge Leonardo.”

“Okay,” I blink slowly.”what do you want to do?”

“I have Juliano’s testimony, I can expose him! I can go to the police station, and look for the inspector!” _Oh... Passerotta you’re so determined, but so innocent_. I fail to contain my laughter. Elizabeth pouts at me, eyes swollen from crying. I try to compose myself for her sake.

“What evidence do you actually have? Anything besides his testimony?”

Elizabeth sputters, wind rapidly abandoning her sails. “I..I...no.”

“You’re already on a path, Elizabeth. Other than our solution, there’s no other way to punish him. Do you understand?”

“Vittorio, this is not what I want…”

“You must know the law cannot do anything about us, Elizabeth. The only penalties we ever face are related to taxes. It’s time to stop being naive.”

“I just want him to pay the price, Vitto.” She looks unsure of her own answer.

I gently cup the side of her cheek so she looks at me as I say this, “Death -- is the right price. I know you want him to hurt, whether it’s for Jessica, the missing girls, or Leonardo.”

“He deserves it! He deserves it!” The vehemence of her conviction has her trembling in my arms.

“No matter the method, _Mia Passerotta_ , we’ll make him pay.”

"Vittorio, I would have done it myself already, but he deserves a public trial. So the world can see his crimes! Death alone won't punish him."

"This is wishful thinking, Elizabeth. You don't have enough evidence to ever bring him to trial. You're an ant trying to move a mountain . Even I can't do that."

"But this isn't what I wanted…"

"Forget what you wanted. Are you going to risk letting him get away with his crimes for a small chance at a trial? Punishing him requires the right opportunity. Once you miss it, he'll be free forever. Think about the people he harmed, think about him living out the rest of his life in luxury. I gave you time. Did you find any hard evidence against him?" 

She shakes her head. "Only a Bible in his study with some odd verses highlighted, some with initials next to them."

"Just leave it to me, _Mia Passerotta_ , and rest."

I run my fingers through her soft hair, trailing my touch along her scalp to rub her ear. I really need her to see that this is the right solution, and I may not be above certain tactics. She looks into my eyes, and sighs deeply.

“You’re right, he hurt so many people. He needs to be punished if the law cannot touch him.” A single tear drops down her face.

I smile. “That’s my Elizabeth. Believe me, we will take care of him together.”

“It’s getting harder to act though. There’s only so much I can do without pulling out all the stops. He’s calm now, but what if something else sets him off? What if he decides he needs to hurt you, next?”

“I can take care of myself, Elizabeth. I’m honestly more worried about you. We have about three weeks until The Assembly; even though I’d like to minimize your part in this plan as much as possible, there’s a good chance that you may need some self defense lessons. I’ll send for you again in a week, just tell me when you can get away for two days to come back up here. Say you’re visiting your parents. I’ll have a plan that we can run through then.”

She nods. “Will I be coming back here through Kenny’s Laundry?”

“Yes, but I may have you take a different route out of town for any future trips. Just to be safe.”

"If I have to use any means necessary to earn his trust sooner, are you ok with that?"

I pause. She's considering my feelings. But also asking permission. I don't have control over her, but she's offering me some say in her situation. I am strangely pleased with this gift.

"Any means necessary, I trust you. We need at least two days next time, though."

I check my pocket watch. We’re almost out of time to get Elizabeth back to the Sparrow Room for a reasonable laundry day.

“Nino!” He pops his head in from the kitchen, mouth full of pasta. “Please take her back to Kenny’s Laundry. Her next ride will be waiting out front.”

Nino nods and swallows, “Can I at least take your leftovers?”

“No! You already ate my breakfast for tomorrow.” I laugh. I glance over at Miss Colvin, she still looks unsure. Sounds of silverware and ceramic in a sink echo from the kitchen. Nino comes out to the living room, wiping his mouth hurriedly on the back of his hand.

“Well Miss Colvin, or should I say, Miss Dawson. Time to get this show on the road.” Nino adjusts his tie and opens the front door for her, following her as she exits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note:  
> Vitto is an OK cook. His _Nonna_ made sure he could feed himself before he left for America.
> 
>  _bastardo maloto_ \- sick bastard  
>  _mia passerotta_ \- my Sparrow
> 
> \----
> 
> Hello! I'm working on updating the first 17 chapters of the fic with the help of my friend Red. I basically wrote this at a breakneck speed due to my ADD, so there's some extra depth and flavors that I wanted to weave in before picking back up with Chapter 18, so that I can set up some things that pay off later. :D
> 
> Thank you for reading my little look into our favorite brooding Sicilian's mind.
> 
> I am deeply indebted to VerdiWithin, astroAntagonist, Heliosalpha, and ScholarlyDragon for their patience with my bubbling-over excitement at writing after reading for so long. I truly am blessed with wonderful friends 💕
> 
> Beta for this chapter: VerdiWithin, astroAntagonist, and Red


	19. Chapter 19

I stay up all night trying to figure out a good plan that minimizes the risk to Elizabeth. I can’t have her shoot Juliano herself, even though she admitted that she probably could have done it by now. She would get hauled off to prison. I can’t imagine her doing well there. Even in a women’s prison, Juliano’s Family would find a way to carry out their revenge. In the likeliest scenario of getting a time and place where Juliano would be -- he’d either be at dinner or at the Sparrow Room. Trying to do anything in the Sparrow Room would put a lot of bystanders in danger. Which leaves... Juliano going to dinner. In all likelihood with Elizabeth. I groan. He hasn’t usually told her where he’s taking her. Nino’s seen them at the Sparrow Room a few times since, and she’s always surprised with where he’s taking her. 

It’ll need to be some kind of big dinner that he tells her about in advance. His birthday is in two weeks. It’s likely going to be then. I rub my chin thoughtfully. If he’s at a big event, he’d have guards. Elizabeth would have to smuggle in a gun somehow. She’ll need his absolute trust. She hasn’t gotten there yet with him, it sounds like. She shot one man at his command. It’ll be risky, but maybe I’ll have to find a way to push him into the corner. 

I call up Nino the next morning, while sitting next to the hall table. “Nino, it’s me.”

“Oh, hey boss! What’s the occasion?”

“How’s Jacob been? I haven’t seen him since Valencia.”

“He’s fine now. I actually sent him in to check out some bargain basement specials.”

“Huh, I was going to ask you to do that. Must have read my mind.”

“Sometimes I have good ideas. Need me to visit?”

“If you have time.”

“If I bring you groceries can you make some more pasta? My girl isn’t from the homeland, so you actually cook better than her.”

I break out into laughter on the phone. “Ok. See you soon.”

I hang up the receiver and rest my head for what feels like just a few minutes…

\---

“BOSS! BOSS!” There’s a pounding at the door.

I open my eyes. Oh, Nino must be here and I probably fell asleep at the phone table. I see a shimmering pile of drool. Thank goodness it’s only Nino.

I run my hands quickly through my hair and rub any remaining spit drips from my mouth, then open the door. Nino is there with a big brown bag with vegetables and bread sticking out of the top.

“Nino, I can’t replace your _Nonna’s_ cooking. And I shouldn’t be replacing your girl’s cooking, either.”

“I know, I know...But please?”

“What’d your boy dig up?”

I bring the bag into the kitchen and start taking inventory of what he brought. 

Nino pulls out a file and plops it on the counter. It’s at least an inch thick.

“Jake was a busy lad. Turns out Paradiso isn’t the only cellar storing broads like vintage wines. Our friend has quite a few, actually. Some of these girls are young, Vitto. Too young.”

“They were willing to talk?”

“It took some time. Some were willing, others stayed pretty vague. Collected together it’s compelling.”

“It’s all circumstantial evidence.” I flip through the notes looking for any names I recognize. “We have anyone in the Queens police?”

“Just one.”

“Maybe dig into that cop who died, the one Rossi impersonated.”

“Why?”

“Maybe if I help her out on this end, she’ll feel more confident in our solution.”

“When’s the wedding?” Nino laughs.

I ignore him. “Juliano doesn’t trust her at the moment, she was having trouble getting into bed with him literally and figuratively.”

“Well yeah, have you looked at the guy? Only a mother could love that face.” He pulls a face.

“Did you make copies of this?” I hold up the folder.

“Yeah. You’re holding the duplicate there.”

“Keep anything you find safe, and send me the copies. Blackmail material is no good if it gets destroyed. And Nino, make sure Jacob tries to keep a little lower profile. This is an awful lot for him to have gotten in a week.”

“Will do, Boss. When’ll dinner be ready?”

“When it’s ready.” I smirk darkly. _Sheesh_. I’m amazed he gets anything done.

\---

The phone rings, it's Carmine. "Miss 'Dawson' for you, Boss."

"Great, patch her through."

Her sultry voice carries through the phone, it makes my heart skip a beat. "Daddy, I had to earn my time away, but I can come up this weekend." She did what she had to do. At least it was her decision. Though her calling me "daddy," even under her act, does something to me. I'm not sure I like it. 

"Great. Make your way to the Pennsylvania station to get a bus ticket that goes through Newark as a stop. Pick a ticket location you can remember and pack light enough to bring your luggage on board. Give me a call after you get your ticket so I know what time to get you. Can you remember all of that, my little Miss Lisa?" 

"Uh-huh. I'll see you this weekend. I can't wait to see you at home." I hear her hang up.

Someone must have been close enough to listen to her side of the conversation. Juliano must be getting paranoid. Rumor has it that he had someone taken care of near the Sultry Skies Club two weeks ago for trying to break one of his businesses away from him. I replace the receiver on the phone. Newark isn't too far, at least. 

I imagine correcting Elizabeth into calling me my preferred title, Sir. My reaction is almost instantaneous. Sir is more malleable, being just the one syllable. It can be choked out, exhaled, whispered, screamed. It makes me feel respected. Daddy feels too casually American. It also reminds me of the other dancers in the Sparrow Room who try to cozy up to rich mafiosos. Some guys get off on it. It's never struck anything for me.

I looked around, trying to recollect my thoughts. Right. I have some extra groceries courtesy of Nino and his appetite. I didn't have to use nearly all of what he brought to send him home happy. This pleases me, because it looks like I'll have some options for the upcoming weekend.

It does bother me, thinking of what Elizabeth had to do to earn this time away from Juliano, but I feel strangely serene. We had sorted our feelings out, so I wonder if she still imagined me in his place. The thought pleases me unexpectedly. I should figure out if we have enough time for those explorations as well.

\---

Carmine rings me the next morning. Says it's Miss Dawson again. He patches me through.

This time she sounds more like my Elizabeth. "It's me. My bus leaves here at ten, according to the schedule I should be there in about half an hour or so, depending on traffic."

"Sounds good. I will have a taxi waiting for you, they'll have a sign with your name on it." She's still being extra cautious.

"You're not coming to pick me up?" I practically hear her pouting on the phone. I can't wait to kiss it off her perfect lips.

"Not this time, maybe next time."

"I'll see you soon." She hangs up first again. Time to make a few more phone calls to arrange a taxi to Suffern. I look at my own pile of laundry and decide that maybe it's a better decision to pick her up from Kenny's myself instead of sending Nino out. Kid could use some time with his own lady. And I'm feeling like we'll want privacy when she's here. I tap on Nino's shoulder to wake him up.

"Nino, you can head home this weekend. Maybe check in on Jacob. And the other lead I wanted you to follow up on."

"You sure, Boss? Guess you two lovebirds want privacy…" 

I give Nino a look that tells him I'm not in the mood, and adjust my tie. He takes the hint that this is not up for discussion or joking. He hurriedly heads out.

\---

I change into something more casual, with an open vest, a plaid hat, and a pair of glasses. I haven't shaved in a few days since I haven't needed to see anyone and it makes it easier to go around town. This tiptoeing around to keep Elizabeth safer by masking my own movements is driving me a little crazy, though.

I arrive at Kenny's Laundry, and the laundress is surprised to see me with actual laundry.

"Finally partaking in our services, Mr. Smith?"

"I actually had laundry, and would prefer it be done while I wait, so…" I'm not sure why I am embarrassed. I hand over the bundle and pay as they put it on the scale.

"It'll be ready in a few hours. Pull your car to the back, though." She disappears behind the counter with my laundry.

I get in and move my Ford Tudor to the back of the building. I miss having the Cadillac in the city, but this is better for blending in, especially since Fords seem to be everywhere.

I bring a small notepad to occupy myself while I wait. How can I tell her so that she doesn't get nervous? How can I push Juliano into trusting Elizabeth? My mind wanders as I puzzle away.

\---

The laundress knocks on the window of my car, and motions me to come inside. I get out and head in to pick up my neatly folded and bagged laundry. Elizabeth walks in with her laundry and a small suitcase.

"Miss Dawson." She looks up, excitedly looking for the source of the sound. Her eyes meet mine. She looks surprised, but smiles sweetly, the crinkling at her eyes letting me know it's genuine. Oh _mio Dio_. The last time we saw each other was… I shake my head to clear it. _Concentriamoci_.

She follows me to a backroom so she can change into something more comfortable for shooting. She's changed into her shirt, suspenders, and high-waisted trousers with her glasses, and a tattered, plaid newsie hat. I take her bag and put it into the trunk and offer her the door. She flops into the passenger seat, flattening the small parcel I brought for her.

I laugh and get into the driver side.

"Excuse me, miss."

I reach under her to grab the parcel, slyly caressing her while I'm at it. She blushes and playfully slaps my hand. Then she looks puzzled at the parcel.

"What's this for?"

"For you. For the weekend."

She opens it up to find a pair of thin leather gloves. She looks at me quizzically.

"It's better to learn how to shoot in gloves and work around them because I have no idea what you'll be wearing whenever you do get into shooting."

She nods. "Thank you. I'm a bit nervous about this, but I trust you. Also, I'm not used to seeing you..." She motions around her chin, indicating my long stubble.

"Left my straight razor back in the city. I hope you don't mind too much."

She laughs, "It's just different."

I reach over to hold her hand as we pull away driving up toward the cabin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by astroAntagonist & Red & VerdiWithin 
> 
> Notes:  
>  _Nonna_ \- Grandma  
>  _mio Dio_ \- oh my God  
>  _concentriamoci_ \- let's focus


	20. Chapter 20

We get back to the cabin and I park the car in the shelter. She's eager to get started with the shooting lesson, but I lead her first to the couch. I pull out my notebook and flip to the first page of notes. She puts her hand on mine to interrupt me before I begin.

"I...I already shot before…what's different about this?"

"This is for defense, for safety, okay?"

She nods.

“First, you always handle every gun as if it is loaded. When you are pointing a gun at anyone else, it should only be with the intention to shoot. Guns are tools, the task they are made for is to disable your opponent, permanently. Some guys like to wave them around or collect them like they are toys. Don’t be them. You’re smarter than that.”

Elizabeth pulls out her notebook and starts taking notes.

“Second, if you hear shooting or screaming, you should try your best to run away and not get involved. If you are cornered, you might freeze. That's something animals typically do to attempt to blend in when avoiding a predator. If they already see you, freezing is something you want to avoid."

She looks up at me. "What does that have to do with shooting?"

"Everything. If you can maintain your safety without shooting someone, always attempt to do so. Using a gun defensively is always a last resort. Taking a life should always be a matter of last resort. Do you understand, _Passerotta_?"

She nods. "Yes."

"Third, if your personal safety is threatened to the point where you feel that taking out the target is how you are safe, then that's when you can engage. You want to move close to the target as possible, taking advantage of cover and keeping any bystanders behind you before taking the shot. You need to be as accurate as possible. Sometimes it's not feasible for you to get too close to someone. That's what we'll be practicing over the next two days in the back. We will improve your accuracy so that you feel more comfortable handling a gun like the tool it is."

"This is a lot to remember in the moment."

"Which is why you want to practice until it is second nature." I close my notebook and get up from the couch, offering her my hand. She takes it and we go to the makeshift shooting range I have behind the cabin. I pull on my cinch leather gloves from my pocket. I roll up my sleeves and Elizabeth follows suit, rolling up her sleeves and putting on her gloves.

I grab a piece of newsprint and charcoal to draw a rough outline of a man, marking bullseyes at the head and the center of the chest. I affix this to the bale of hay at the end of the range. I walk back to the shelter where Elizabeth is waiting.

At the shelter, I pick up my snub nosed revolver. I toggle the cylinder open and show her the empty chambers.

"This is a revolver. It's easier to use for beginners. Notice the six spaces in the cylinder. That is how many shots you have before it is empty."

I pull out a box of ammunition from underneath and select the correct caliber bullets, sliding six into the waiting chambers. I snap the cylinder back into place.

"Brief word about safety and practice. Notice I am keeping my barrel pointed down range this entire time. This is so I do not point it at you. I also do not have my finger on the trigger until I am ready to shoot. Again, a gun is not a toy. Other guns have a safety switch. If it's available, it should be on at all other times to avoid accidental discharges. This is a single action revolver. "

I point at the target down range and cock the hammer, holding the gun with my dominant hand and clasping my other hand around it, near the grip for stability.

"You have to cock the hammer to prep the gun for firing. This is what lines up the bullet in the chamber to the barrel and allows you to pull the trigger. Notice how I am holding this. This is so that I can hold it steady, without shaking. Also so that I am braced for the recoil. I'm going to fire into the target now."

I line up the sights and squeeze the trigger, hitting the target in the bullseye. Elizabeth gasps at the sound. She isn't used to gunfire. I put the gun down, still pointing down range.

"I may have some wax earplugs. I'll get them for you after the lecture. I also have some earmuffs, but they have to grip your head pretty tightly."

She nods vigorously. "I just didn't expect it to be so loud."

I smile. "Well, you are holding something that makes _piccole esplosioni_ \-- explosions tend to be loud." I give her the wax earplugs. She attempts to stick them on and looks at me confusingly.

I shake my head, smiling, and take my gloves off. The wax earplug is in my hand, and I roll it around to soften it and shape it into a ball. 

"You want to stick this, while soft, into your ear, and smooth it out to block the empty space. Don't let too much get into your ear canal."

I place the softened ball in her ear, and press inward to flatten the shape to smooth it. She shivers and I see goosebumps rising on her exposed forearms.

"Do you want me to put in the other plug, or do you have the hang of it now?"

"I want to try this myself. If I don't get it, you can do it."

She removes her gloves, revealing her soft, perfectly manicured hands. I watch, rapt, as she's rolling the wax same as I did and inserting it in her other ear. I almost feel bad for staring. Almost.

"Okay what's next?!" She says a little too loudly. Right, wax dulls her own volume, too.

"You can try practicing shooting into the target. Remember my revolver had six chambers, I shot one, so now you have five more opportunities to hit the target."

"Right!" She puts her gloves back on and takes the gun into her hands. She tries to hold it the same, but is a little shaky. I make sure she sees me approaching before I move behind her. I adjust her grip and help move her arms so that I can explain the sights. My heart rate increases involuntarily as I bring my head next to hers for this lesson. _È più efficiente_ , I tell myself.

"This is a snub nosed revolver. It still has some fixed sights that help you aim. You want to line up the center of these grooves to your desired target. Since you're a beginner, it's better to aim a little low and have full view of your target than trying to start straight off with a dead on hold. As you practice, you'll figure out what works best for you. Ideally, you always want to line up a shot before pulling the trigger." 

I retreat from her to grab my leather earmuffs, cursing that I forgot to go over this sooner in the lecture. I watch her take aim, cock back the hammer, and fire. The recoil moves her arms and she looks surprised, because her shot didn't quite hit where she aimed.

"Remember, _piccole esplosion_ i." 

She nods and repeats the whole affair again; this time bracing for the recoil, and trying to control the force exerted. She gets closer to my bullet holes this time. She aims and fires her last two rounds before putting the gun down and looking at me. 

I open the cylinder and shake out the empty casings into a metal pail on the floor before handing her the gun so she can reload. We repeat this cycle until the target is riddled with holes in the center two rings at the chest.

" _Bene, bene_...aiming at the chest is better than getting a head shot because you are far more likely to land a hit in the chest. It may not whack them so to speak, but you want to stun them. Getting shot... _fa male_ \-- it hurts. Your assailant is not likely to keep pursuing you if it means significant blood loss."

"Can we take a break? My arms feel a little shot, no pun intended." Elizabeth cracks a smile but also shakes out her arms, as if trying to loosen them up.

"Let me help." 

I take off my gloves and massage her bare forearms. There's quite a bit of tension. She's not used to shooting. _Essere atteso._ I dig my thumbs into the hard knots until her muscles melt under my efforts. A soft moan escapes her lips. _Signore aiutami con questo._

"We can go inside and I'll scare up something to eat. You rest."

She nods and follows my lead indoors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by: astroAntagonist, Red, & VerdiWithin
> 
> Note:
> 
>  _È più efficiente_ \- it's more efficient.  
>  _piccole esplosioni_ \- tiny explosions  
>  _Bene_ \- good  
>  _Fa Male_ \- it hurts  
>  _essere atteso_ \- to be expected.  
>  _Signore aiutami con questo_ \- Lord help me with this one.


	21. Chapter 21

After lunch, we spend more time shooting. As the sun sets, we make our way back indoors.

Now it's time to outline the plan. I pull out my notebook to relay my thoughts about her role in all this. We sit on the couch as I gather my thoughts.

“The most important role you have in this is informing us of the location where Juliano will be isolated, and smuggling in a weapon. The second part will require his absolute trust of you.”

“Are you thinking it’s because body searches and pat downs are invasive?” _Fraseggio interessante_. She cuts straight to the point.

“In so many words, yes. Juliano is a jealous man. He would not stand for someone else touching you that intimamente.” _Né io, se li vedessi_. She nods.

"I'll be giving you my snub nosed revolver. It's a smaller gun, so if you wear something with a more voluminous skirt, you can probably hide it underneath."

"In a garter holster?" 

I raise my eyebrow. I have never heard of this being an item before. "That's better than I was thinking. Maybe I can have someone sew you something special. Wherever you go… First make sure you're all alone in the bathroom. Inspect the water tank, and find somewhere the gun can't be found. Inspect the hammer before you hide the gun, make sure it isn't cocked so it doesn't accidentally discharge."

I bring my forehead to hers, just touching. While I’m eager to strike this blow, I want her safe. _Se mai dovessi perderti_...I don’t want her to be too reckless.

"The most important thing is, we do not want Juliano or any of his family members to suspect you had anything to do with this. Ditch the holster in the trash if you can. If something goes wrong with this, whatever chance we get, I want to ensure your safety. No story is worth dying for, no matter what you think."

I’m surprised how far we went in our last encounter. I have to remember that she is capable of asking for what she wants. I have to keep my faith in her. Since taking on the role of “Lisa” I keep thinking of Elizabeth as delicate. My hand drifts down to her slender neck, I feel her quickening pulse through my fingertips.

“The other issue on my mind...were you comfortable with what we did the last time you stayed with me late in the evening?”

A blush races across her cheeks and blooms towards her ears. “If you can believe it, yes.”

"Be sure to let me know if you're not comfortable. Enthusiasm is far more preferable to fear." Obedience is delicious, but this kind of submission should always be a gift eagerly given. I should probably keep myself a little more reigned in, for her sake.

“I trust you, Vitto.” She grazes her fingertips up the sides of my neck, sending tingling waves racing over my skin. I close my eyes, lost in the sensation. Her fingernails wander across my scalp, and I involuntarily clench my jaw. She is picking and tearing at my last shreds of control. I take in a sharp breath and pull away, just enough to glare. She continues, “if I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t be here.” _Mettere paglia al fuoco_. 

“You’re tempting fate, _passerotta_. Are you sure?”

My sparrow digs her nails into my scalp more sharply and drags down my neck before gliding off in the middle of my back. She smirks as my skin positively burns for her touch. 

“You ask too many questions, Vitto. Maybe _you_ should be a reporter.”

 _Basta_. Time to teach this little bird why they call me the wolf. 

“Miss Colvin,” I exhale icily.

I grab her outstretched arms, and bring them together above her head. She looks at me, shocked, but I note the twinkle that indicates she is pleased. I loosen my tie and quickly free it from my collar. I bind her wrists together snugly. She makes a show of struggling, and purrs, “You think this will keep me down? I’ve had to please Juli-”

 _Can’t let her finish_. I clap my hand to her mouth and squeeze gently. 

“ _Passerotta_ , understand that while I enjoy these games, there is a limit to what I can tolerate without consequences. Do not go there.” My voice is ice cold. This is not up for discussion.

She says innocently, “But how will I get the release I’m craving without winding you up?”

“If there’s anything I know about you now, my little bird, it’s that you are very creative.”

She appears lost in thought, then wriggles her arms. My binding keeps her arms pinned together. She huffs and stews. It looks like my little sparrow might be too reliant on words for her weapon. I pull out my pocket square from my vest and ball it up in my palm. She looks at me unsure at first, but understanding after I mime her bird chatter with my fingers. Elizabeth opens her mouth when I remove my hand and I gently stuff the handkerchief in. She starts making noisy sounds of mock protestation.

I advance on her, my lips softly pulling the lobe of her ear, “ _Passerotta_ , I want you to be quiet and focus on what I give you. If you are not quiet, there will be consequences.” She vigorously nods, and mewls behind the makeshift gag. I feel the tremor that skitters up her spine in response. _Bene._

I trail my hands down her back, stopping to massage away the tension from her stiff shooting pose all day. She moans in relieved delight when I find a pinched knot and knead it with my knuckle until it melts back into her muscle. Her skin is flush with heat, and she tries to slither against me, sliding a leg up my body. She grazes my groin in her writhing motions, and I think that she needs to learn a little more restraint. 

I unbuckle my belt and it slides smoothly out from my belt loops. I hook it around the tie binding her wrists and pull it taut. I get off of the couch and firmly pull the loop upwards, indicating I want her to get up, and off of the couch. I continue tugging, my smile lascivious, leading her to the bed, remembering that she’s a little easier to tame with a larger area to pin her down. She scrabbles at the belt and grabs it, providing some resistance. She’s trying to tease me back. Ah, the fire in her eyes warms me. Elizabeth is only successful in progressing to my arm where she tries to stroke it and get my attention. I roughly yank the tail of the belt forward, throwing her off balance, and she tumbles towards the bed; her lovely back and shapely bottom presented for my inspection when she lands. I don’t take the bait… _non ancora_.

I fumble for the thin scarf around her neck and loosen it. I gently fold it and use this to cover her eyes, tying it firmly around her head. I climb over her and start nibbling her ear, taking the time to trace my tongue around the outer rim, sending shivers down her spine and causing her to tremble. Small, breathy moans escape her gag, sending delectable sensations stressing the seams of my slacks against her backside.

 _Il lupo_ is going to have a long night.

\---

I wake up, and I feel my leg enclosed in something warm. I try to move, but it keeps me trapped. Instead I turn my head towards the illuminated window.

The light streaming in through the window is a gentle glow. Dawn unfolding her rosy fingers across the sky the next morning. _È bello_.

Elizabeth has a strong grip for someone who is asleep. I reach down under the covers to gently grasp the back of her knee and caress the leg wedged between mine. She stirs, and sleepily withdraws as I tease her awake with soft touches...I’m feeling a little mischievous after last night, and my hand grazes her side before pressing in along her ribs. She jolts awake, laughing uncontrollably. I relent after a bit, and she seizes the opportunity for retribution, jamming her fingers into my sides, hard. 

An unfamiliar sound forces its way out of my body, and I start vibrating in laughter without any control. I struggle to open my eyes, and Elizabeth keeps up the assault, her face the perfect picture of delight. My mirth gives way to a strong desire to taste her lips. I grab her, and we roll around on the bed until I have her pinned underneath me. I lower my head to sweep my tongue across her lips before taking her lower lip into the grip of my teeth. I slowly pull away to get a better view of my prize. She looks at me, a little overwhelmed and worries her lower lip between her teeth. I feel the feral urge rise up in me again, and I descend on her neck, ready for the attack. She submits at last. _Delizioso_.

\--- 

After we're both satisfied, I swing my legs over the bed to look at my clock. Just after six. We can get some more rounds of practice in before I send her back in the early evening.

“Vitto," she coughs delicately, "I was thinking over the last time I was somewhere I wasn’t. Shouldn’t I have something to bring back from my parents’ house to throw off suspicion? My parents would send me home with some sort of home cooked meal to save as leftovers whenever I’d visit them upstate. Though my mother is very fond of her pies.”

I think on that. “I don’t know very many American recipes, I’m afraid. Are you able to cook?”

“You don’t know how to make a tuna casserole, or salted caramel red velvet cupcakes?”

“ _Che due palle_ , what is tuna casserole?”

She looks at me in utter shock. I’m pretty sure she said some words, but I have no idea what they mean together. 

“No really. I know what a casserole is, it’s a french pan, sometimes there’s foods cooked in it that get called a casserole. But many of them have cheese. You’re going to put tuna with cheese?” I don’t bother hiding my disgust on my face. I can’t imagine anyone doing such a disservice to tuna nor cheese. _Che rivoltante_. “Also, what do you mean salted caramel? I thought caramel was made of sugar?” 

Elizabeth simply pats my head and gives me her most winning smile. “Let’s go to the store and we’ll find some ingredients. I will teach you. Even if you’re not a fan of tuna casserole, you can make a substitution if we can’t find it.”

She is going to be the death of me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by: Red, VerdiWithin, and astroAntagonist
> 
> Note:  
>  _Fraseggio interessante_ \- interesting phrasing  
>  _Intimamente_ \- intimately  
>  _Né io, se li vedessi_ \- Nor would I, if I saw them  
>  _Se mai dovessi perderti_ \- If I were to lose you  
>  _Mettere paglia al fuoco_ \- idiom - putting straw to fire, metaphorically tempting fate  
>  _Bene_ \- Good  
>  _non ancora_ \- not yet  
>  _È bello_ \- it’s beautiful  
>  _Che due palle_ \- slang - what the heck? (literally what two balls?)  
>  _Che rivoltante_ \- that's revolting.


	22. Chapter 22

Instead of continuing with her practice, she convinces me to take her into the town center for the grocery store for two dishes I have never heard of before. She manages to find what she needs at the store. I grab some vinegar and lemon juice to be safe. I'm not a fan of my hideout stinking of fish.

I leave her alone for the most part when it comes to her cheese-and-fish concoction, cleaning up the downright bizzare smell from the oven. I silently vow to never let her assemble this abomination and affront to food ever again. 

Elizabeth indicates she wants some assistance from me for the second recipe. Red velvet I understand as being a niche baking gimmick for chocolate cake but the salted caramel is lost on me.

Most of the day is taken up with companionable cooking, but I manage to share part of the trove of documents Jacob had put together in his short time going through the brothels. 

“I already knew Juliano had more than one place like Paradiso, but I didn’t imagine it spanning this far…” She trails off.

“This is more or less what he has been trying to get other Families on board with. Given the stacks of cash he has been making, they’re starting to get hungry for a cut.” Plenty of Families want to keep turning their illicit businesses onto the side of legality just to keep the heat off, but those high risk businesses carry a high reward.

“I’ve been keeping the special prosecutor informed...she’s the one who helped me work up the courage to call you back after the first night we had dinner together. She says she needs more solid evidence before she can act.” Someone who actually follows their own rules. I can respect that.

“Is what Jake gathered enough?”

“No, I need to get something more concrete that ties Juliano directly into Paradiso, or someone who reports to him into that business. I’ll have to see if I can copy down that Bible from his study or find something through someone else. Have you had any luck with finding Walter Taylor’s notes through one of your men?” She looks at me, hopeful. Walter was Jessica Taylor's father, killed by Rossi to keep some key part of this whole affair secret. His notes have proven elusive to obtain for the time being. 

“Not yet. I’ll check on it when you’re safely out of here. What do you plan on doing when you get enough evidence to send to your contact?”

“I’m not sure yet. It’s going to be difficult to disappear from Juliano. I’ll figure out how to get in contact with you for further details.” She puts down the file and returns to her picked-at plate of tuna casserole...though how she manages to finish it without grimacing, I will never know. 

I send Elizabeth home with the baked goods. Tuna casserole is...strange. I don’t understand the appeal at all. I really enjoyed the cupcakes, though the red dye will be a pain to clean up. She swears that both of these are popular back where she’s from, but I don’t see that being true. There’s no way. _Lo giuro sulla tomba di mio padre_.

After I drop her off at Kenny’s Laundry, I return to the range to practice my shooting. Instead of aiming at the drawn targets, I try to match holes with the previous sheets Elizabeth first went through. She fires like she is still reluctant to pull the trigger. I know what it takes to push someone over the edge, but I hope that will never be necessary.

After I finish my last rounds for the night, I hear the ringer box. I rush to the phone. It’s Carmine. I need to get back into the city. It’s a long drive back. I’ll have to remember to take a different route to get there.

I arrive long after dusk to the Brownstone. Carmine does a double take when he sees my scruffy beard. I wave him off and go inside to get cleaned up.

\---

After my face is once again clean-shaven, Carmine hands me some curious notes that have piled up in my absence. One is a typewritten note addressed to Miss Colvin, but using the Brownstone as the address. I break out into a cold sweat, because this would not bode very well. I tear open the small card. Inside it reads:

__

_Miss Colvin,_

_Thank you for your work on following up leads through the complaints my office was receiving. I can’t tell you how frustrating it has been to try to tie these brothels together. Everything we have is circumstantial; there’s always some key detail missing, or the girls themselves are walking free without having to testify. If you can get anything more concrete, please write back immediately. I’m counting on you to help me with rooting out the corruption we have here in the city._

__

__

Sincerely,

 _D. Boseman_

_The black prosecutor's investigating the city’s brothels? Interessante._ This must be the special prosecutor she is informing. _Why did she give her my address as hers?_ I read the card again. She’s interviewing the girls, but not arresting them. I file that thought away for later. She must be planning something big. I wonder if it’s big enough to have tipped off Juliano’s goons in the Police. I haven’t heard anything through my associates, but Juliano has some much bigger fish on the take. She’s playing a very dangerous game here.

I make a note to have my boys look into this further and have them report to Carmine if there’s any new developments. I need to return to business as usual down here. Carmine said my double has been keeping up with the restaurants, but has been eager for my return so he could get a break. 

\---

I spend a quiet first day back in the city at home, since my body double is still out and about. It wouldn't do to have two Vittorio Puzos wandering the streets. I go to my study to catch up on the past week's newspapers. The special Prosecutor's office is taking in tips from the public regarding any unusual businesses. That might be useful later.

My eye catches on a splashy image in the nightlife section of the _Mandarin_ about a Mr. Francisco Juliano being spotted with the performer Miss Dawson on his arm, the first time he's allowed himself to be photographed for the paper. This was just before she came up to see me. Apparently they're calling her Mona Lisa Dawson on account of her mysterious half-smile. I chuckle. I wish I had thought of that. It's a better stage name altogether. 

There isn't much else that catches my eye, but I feel like my grip on things is more solid. I missed having routines, but I needed to keep out of my own business to keep her safe. Now it's a waiting game.

After nightfall, I meet my double inside the Brownstone. His name is Tony - he passes very well for me when he’s clean shaven; good enough to keep people from asking questions. He mentions that he’s seen more and more familiar faces frequenting my establishments to watch him. This unsettles me. Elizabeth was right, Juliano is watching for an opportunity to take me out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by Red, VerdiWithin, and astroAntagonist
> 
> Notes:
> 
>  _Lo giuro sulla tomba di mio padre_ \- I swear it on my father’s grave.
> 
> "Mona Lisa Dawson" should have been her stage name. Why didn't Vitto think this through? Hat tip to Hypatian for the brilliant name that Elizabeth came up with for herself in her fic, A Rhapsody Bathed in Blue. Go read it. It's very good. :)


	23. Chapter 23

Three days later, she calls again. _Musica per le mie orecchie._

"Vitto, it's me. His birthday dinner is Saturday. We're going to Salumi's on Kinney St."

"That sounds nice." And it's one of mine. Interesting choice. _Cosa sta combinando?_

"I finished my other project, just dropped it off at the Post Office. I'm at a public phone at the moment, but it will be hard to call you in the future. He...hasn't been letting me out of his sight often. Apparently he wants to meet my parents the next time I take a weekend off."

"Good, because I don't think I could stand to hear you call me 'Daddy' one more time." I try to soften my tone. I miss her too much to be so short with her.

"Well, I can't call you 'sir' over the phone in Juliano's house...but I'll think of something. Please be careful."

 _I almost forgot!_ "Wait, why did you give Boseman the Brownstone as your address?"

"Well...you have all of my stuff that was in my old room, since I'm not exactly renting that place near the park anymore. It's not exactly inaccurate…"

"It does not look like a woman lives in my house." Come to think of it, I'm not sure it looks like _I_ live in my Brownstone either.

"Well, unpack my belongings if you need to...I gotta go."

I hear her fumbling through the receiver. Just as well. I look around the Brownstone. While I have some luxurious furniture choices, most of it was to help burn through excess cash on hand. 

I go out to the porch where Carmine is having a cigarette. I tap him on the shoulder and motion for him to come inside. He stubs out the last embers of his cigarette and enters, closing the door behind him.

"Carmine, I need to you grab Susanna and - _per quanto potessi rimpiangere questo_ \- Stella. Please bring them both here tomorrow. Make sure they bring some spare outfits."

"You ok, Boss? Or do you have something in mind?"

"In the quite possible event this house gets raided, it needs to look like three women are letting this house from someone, not a…Sears-Roebuck catalog." I wave my hands vaguely at the unimaginative array of furniture.

"Got it. Are you still going to be working out of here?"

"I'll have to move myself back to the Villa after we change a few things. You may want to pack your belongings from here, too."

Carmine nods, sighing dejectedly. "Guess I'm gonna be drivin' longer."

\--- 

Carmine brings both girls over to the Brownstone and I outline the plan. Stella burst out laughing at my suggestion that the three of them should be flatmates for a bit. 

"I don't know _Lupo_ , I might like it so much I want to stay over for good."

"Well then, I'll have to take out some of the other tables to turn my spare rooms into more bedrooms."

I go upstairs to start tagging furniture that hasn't seen a lot of action in my absence. I'll have to transfer my study to the Villa and start having the cleaning girls come out there instead. 

Stella surprises me at the door to my study, speaking while leaning on the door frame.

" _Lupo_ , you must be pretty serious if you're making a lot of these changes just to help her. It's not your style."

"She's a pretty singular woman. Can you blame me?"

"I don't think I've ever seen you wrapped this tight around their finger as I have with Elizabeth. You've had a couple of flings but this is different for you." Her tone is impish, the light in her eye too sly for my liking, _il moccioso_.

"Nino said something similar. Are you two talkin'?" I'm not really in the mood for a heart to heart at the moment. But Stella is relentless in pursuing whatever she's got her eye on. 

"No, I only watched you go to pieces for three days after you were necking each other on the couch. Then you cleaned yourself up when you got a letter from _her_. And for days, beating even me to the phone hoping it's _her_. And I didn't hear from you for a week, because it probably had something to do with _her_."

Annoyed, I respond, " _Picciona_ , don't you have a room to pick out here?"

"I did pick a room. I like the window up here. It's got a good view." She sticks her tongue out at me in defiance. "So maybe you should call your boys to move this stuff out already. Because you're standing in my room, _fratello caro_."

She ushers me out and closes the door. She certainly knows exactly how to get under my skin and push me off center. Susanna takes my meeting room opposite, and is looking around at the table and chairs. I wonder how much this charade is going to cost me, and groan inwardly.

I go downstairs to grab the trunk with Elizabeth's belongings and I move it to the couch to open it. This feels a little like trespassing...but she did tell me to use it. I click the latches open and roll the two halves open like a book. 

Everything is very tidy, save for the majority of her nicer garments, she only has one other set of slacks, and two more arrow shirts, mended a few times over. I notice she has not had the luxury of waiting to do her laundry. She has repurposed old hatboxes and other packaging to keep her stockings separate from her darned and re-darned socks, separate from her tap pants. Two satiny slips take up the rest of the space in this drawer. I am reminded that economic struggles haven’t quite touched me as deeply as others.

The other drawers are full of papers and notebooks, including each of her published articles, clipped out and pasted into a large sketchbook. Some of these articles I haven't seen before, and I pause at those pages to read. I can tell when she's annoyed with the subject matter -- like fashion because she sounds like a school book. Clinical and dry. Must have been a forced assignment.

I happen upon a curious article talking about students holding their own court and setting punishments for crimes. Serious infractions required talking to the offender's parents. She treats this subject just as seriously as an article on an actual court's proceedings. I fail to keep my laughter quiet.

Stella bursts in suddenly. "You have time to sit around reading her diary? You haven't even done anything in here! Maybe you should be _ossa pigre_ instead somewhere else."

"It's not her diary, it's some articles she's written." Mi sto stancando di essere spinto in giro da un dannato piccione!

Stella grabs the book from my hand and starts pushing me out of my own room. 

"If you aren't going to be productive, _Lupo_ , then… _scansanti!_ "

She pushes me entirely out of the house and slams the door in my face.

Carmine looks over at me. I'm outside with no coat, vest, or even suitcoat. Just my loosely buttoned shirt haphazardly tucked into my trousers. He snorts into his cigarette. "Should I bring the boys by _later_ , then Boss?"

I run my fingers through my hair, fighting for some composure. "Yeah. Just get my study furniture put together at the Villa. There's plenty of room in the library." I'm itching for a distraction or a cigarette, but I feel a little out of sorts since Stella pushed me out without being fully put together. I’m trying to tuck my shirt in and right myself but I don’t have all the pieces of me to be seen out on the street. I’m floundering on my own doorstep..

Stella suddenly swings the door open and shoves my bag from upstate along with my overcoat in my arms and slams the door shut again.

"You regetting grabbing her from the Metro?" Carmine laughs, poorly hiding his shuddering shoulders.

"Only a little." I root through my overcoat for my lighter and cigarette case. "Let's go to the Villa. If they need anything, she knows where to call."

\---

I wonder what the hell Juliano is thinking, having his birthday dinner at one of my restaurants. Probably thumbing his damn nose at me once again. _Coglione_. On the bright side, it means she won't have to smuggle in a gun. I can keep her risk in this to a minimum. Time to breathe a sigh of relief. I can call someone from the construction site to do some light renovation to the restroom to put in a hidden compartment into the wall and keep everything tidy.

I finally relax and savor my cigarette in the back seat. Windows rolled down just enough to enjoy the air during the trip to the Villa. Ahhhh…

If Stella is turning the Brownstone into _la gabbietta_ , then I can take a much needed backseat to this whole operation. Maybe finally catch up on some sleep.

\--  
As usual, _Non dire gatto se non ce l’hai nel sacco_.

The ringer box is going off like crazy when Carmine and I pull up to the Villa. I rush inside to pick up the phone, because only Stella would know we're here, and Susanna is with her.

"Lupo! You left too early!"

"Well, I recall a certain _picciona_ booting me from her nest." The cigarette from earlier calmed me, but I already feel her riling me up.

"The mail's here, and there's a big package addressed to a " _Mr. Colvin_ " with no return address." _Manache!_ I leave the receiver hanging, and rush back outside. Carmine sees my haste and sighs.

"Don't tell me we gotta go back right now, Boss."

"Alright. I won't tell you. Just give me the keys."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by: Red, VerdiWithin
> 
> Note:
> 
>  _Musica per le mie orecchie_ \- music for my ears  
>  _Cosa sta combinando?_ \- What is he doing?  
>  _per quanto potessi rimpiangere questo_ \- as much as I'll regret this  
>  _il moccioso_ \- The brat  
>  _fratello caro_ \- Dear brother  
>  _ossa pigre_ \- lazy bones  
>  _Mi sto stancando di essere spinto in giro da un dannato piccione!_ \- I'm getting tired of being pushed around by a goddamn pigeon!  
>  _scansanti!_ \- Get out of here!/Scram!  
>  _Coglione_ \- expletive  
>  _la gabbietta_ \- The birdhouse   
> _Non dire gatto se non ce l’hai nel sacco_ \- don't say cat if you don't have it in the bag. Italian version of the English Idiom "counting chickens before they hatch"  
>  _Manache!_ \- Oh Hell!


	24. Chapter 24

Carmine wisely doesn't let me drive. He can see I'm right back on the edge of a knife and merely plays the radio. I fume privately at Stella, but also a little angry that I'm grateful. Family is always complicated, _dannazione_.

We park the car and I practically kick open the door to the Brownstone like a madman. Susanna curls up behind one of the sofa pillows, _la povero gattino morbido_ and Stella’s got her palms on her hips, tapping her foot impatiently, unamused with my simmering rage.

"What took you so long??"

I glare daggers into Stella as I advance angrily. She doesn't flinch. Instead, she throws the parcel at me and waits. I manage to catch it, and loosen the knots in the twine binding the brown paper around the bundle. There's a brand new Bible, but some pages are folded with writing in the margins near certain verses. Some initials. This must be what she mentioned the other day. Looks like she just reproduced it herself.

There's another bound bundle inside, a folio with lots of loose pieces of paper -- some meal receipts, some napkins, bits of cardstock from packaging with lots and lots of notes about former dancers for Mrs. Molly and the names of other too-young girls who spent the remainder of their childhood in service to The Combination. Partial conversations with names, who took care of whom, how girls were rotated through the different locations. 

This is a big outfit. I think about the broken mothers who filed advertisement after advertisement, looking for their lost children. The mother who never gave up. The ones who had to give up or go insane. I know she wants to bring him to justice but the law alone cannot settle this red ledger. It's overflowing with innocent lives lost to his slaughterhouses of the soul.

I tidy the bundle back up and notice a small note in Elizabeth's slanted, hurried script. 

This is everything I've gathered since first entering the Sparrow Room. I was finally able to procure a Bible to replicate the one from Juliano's study. Please find a way to get this to Prosecutor Boseman. She needs this to act.

Sorry I wasn't very creative.

I flip it over, looking for more, but it looks like that's all she wrote. I remember reading something the other day about Boseman looking for tips from anyone involved with the unsavoury businesses. My mind wanders through my hazy memory of the past few days...

Stella clears her throat. "You've been staring through the parcel, but haven't said anything yet. And what’s the big idea, why did she give you her last name, _Lupo_?"

"She said she wasn't feeling very creative." I'm not hearing Stella exactly because my mind is trying to chase down that idea.

"Hey? _Lupo_ , why are you ignoring me?"

Her constant needling rekindles my earlier irritation. And then, I have it. That feeling you get when an idea is not only useful, but allows you to be very petty in its execution. This might be the best way to not only make Stella useful, but to get back at her for all her pecking today.

"Does Susanna have any of her old outfits from the Sparrow Room?"

\---

I called Nino over to look through the notes Elizabeth had sent, to also make a copy to keep with our duplicate of his notes. Having gone through a little of Elizabeth's belongings reinforced my instinct that she valued her record keeping above all else. We just finish copying down her scrap papers and her Bible citations when a sound steals my attention.

The click of heels on the hardwood floor turns my head. Susanna is in a sheer, fluttery striped dress over a sinful dark colored slip that drew attention to her fashionably boyish form. Her makeup was bold- heavy on the eyes and her dark bob curled tight to her face. The fashion ideal from the last decade. Some men were still into that. Non fa per me. I look around.

"Where's Stella?"

"She's...ah...a little embarrassed to come out." Susanna leans toward the door to goad my sister.

"It is pretty chilly this time of year for a summer dress. It wouldn't look out of place for each of you to take one of my coats." I grab two of my older coats from the hall closet, giving one to Susanna.

Stella yells through the door, "It's NOT just that it's cold, Lupo. It's not only very improper to be trotting around in my underwear to go to _la polizia_ , but I'm not wearing this in front of my brother. No!" I sense the perfect opportunity to sweeten my revenge. I approach her door, coat outstretched.

"Why, did you eat too many cookies, so now you're _picciona paffuta_?" I shout through the door teasingly. Back at the table Nino is shuddering into the hand covering his mouth, trying to hold back laughter.

She shrieks in reply and tears the door open. I throw the coat over her. Stella is momentarily confused, and realizes what I was doing.

"Thank you for the coat, but you're ancora uno stronzo."

"I'm your brother. It's my privilege. Besides, you've been bored out of your mind lately. Carmine will drop you nearby."

I reach into my wallet to pull out some cash in smaller bills. I hand a few to Stella. 

"If you and Susanna feel like getting something to eat afterwards, do so, but call us when you want to be picked up. _Sì, il mia picciona paffutella?_ "

Stella snatches them out of my hand and blows a raspberry at me. She stuffs the bills into the overcoat pocket and grabs the bundle. Carmine escorts them both outside.

"It's a good thing you had me over, Boss. She had a lot to write down. Phew."

"Yeah. We'll just have to wait and see."

\---

They're only out for a few hours before they call back to the house for Carmine to pick them up.  
It's not long after that their bird chatter reaches the front door and they step inside.

I have a pot of coffee waiting for them, and Stella makes a beeline straight for it. Susanna asks if we keep any tea in the house. I motion to the kettle on the stove and show her the small tea chest I keep. 

I love my coffee, but I've gotten more into teas in the last few years. The delicious floral notes are a soothing contrast to my line of work. My fascination with the drink has grown since the rainy night I shared with Elizabeth. I now keep a small variety on hand depending on my mood. Nino finds it strange that I would drink anything else but coffee, when it's comparatively cheap stateside.

Stella sighs into her mug. 

"Too much freedom for mia picciona?"

"I was maybe eavesdropping when they were talking to Susanna for her interview. It sounds like Elizabeth corroborated enough evidence that prosecutor had already collected to trigger something big."

"We expected that, though. It's what she intended when she sent me the folio."

"I don't think I was the only one listening, because she was still being vague. I think they know they have moles in the unit, _Lupo_ , and they're trying to see what shakes out."

The prosecutor is more savvy than I gave her credit for. She must be trying to see if the leak will get her any more suspicious activity. It's certainly something to keep an eye on. But at least it's out of my hands for now. 

We bid both ladies farewell and Carmine drives me back to the Villa. Nino will take care of the Salumi bathroom renovation and get his boys to move my study furniture out of the Brownstone. I told him to let Stella direct where furniture should go, since she'll keep everything together. I pointedly keep the money for this project with Nino, so that she buys what she needs and not what she wants. She's not supposed to come from money right now. Plus it'd be good for her to have a budget. For once.

Maybe I can finally get some sleep. I deserve a break and perhaps some indulgent dreaming.

\--- 

I wake up to overhearing Carmine talking to someone on the phone. Sounds like he's talking to Susanna.

“Boss, they got one of Juliano’s fancy invitations but it's addressed to you. Want them to open it?”

A chill rolls down my spine. “Sure. Have her read it to you. What does it say?”

“He wants you at the Sparrow Room. Tomorrow night. No stamp, so someone hand delivered this.”

It’s going to be a long drive back into the city. So much for catching a break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by: Red, VerdiWithin
> 
>  _Dannazione_ \- damn  
>  _la povero gattino morbido_ \- poor scared kitten  
>  _Non fa per me_ \- it's not for me  
>  _La polizia_ \- the police  
>  _Sì, il mia picciona paffutella_ \- yes my chubby little pigeon
> 
> Picciona is a play on piccione which actually does mean Pigeon, but is a masculine word.


	25. Chapter 25

I call Nino to have him come with me as well. I can't put my finger on it, but this doesn't feel right. I'd feel better with some backup. Nino stays outside with reinforcements while I go in with Carmine.

We arrive at the Sparrow Room. At the coat check, I notice it’s decorated for a grand event. I have a sinking feeling of deja vu. This suspiciously feels like it has something to do with “Lisa.” Every other seat in the club is occupied by members of Families…No, just one -- Juliano’s Family. Carmine and I approach the stage, where Juliano himself is waiting. An overly large velvet box is next to him on a small platform.

“I just wanted to get your attention, Vitto. Seems like a lot of people still have your attention these days.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Frank.” I attempt a casual stance, sliding my hands in my pockets nonchalantly. 

“Don’t you Frank me, _cretino_. Something big is going down at that lawyer's office. Your sister was there. Since she's not easily accessible, I’ll get your attention with another prop."  
Juliano kicks the large velvet box open, and a body tumbles to the stage. I don't recognize the dress. I do _think_ I recognize that platinum blonde hair. I take a cautious step toward the stage. 

At my movement, every seated goon raises a gun at me. I swallow. My mouth feels very dry.

"Seems you still carry a torch for my Lisa, hmm? The papers are callin' her a work of art. It's been real nice having her around. Brought me some treats from her mother, too. She's just another broad, though. A dime a dozen...I can always get another." I feel my heart pounding in my ears. What is he planning?

Juliano pulls out his revolver, and spins the cylinder. "What do you say we play a little game, huh? This here is the best lie detector there is." He cocks back the hammer and points it at the body. 

He's gone off the deep end. I need to tread carefully. I lick my very dry lips, and try to clear the sudden pressure in my chest with a deep breath through my nose. I have to play it cool. He's got to be bluffing...right?

"How do I know that's Miss Dawson and not some other unlucky girl of Mrs. Molly’s? At this distance it's hard to tell. Even then, Frank, she chose you. A poor choice, considering the way you’ve treated her, but at least I respect a girl's decision." Juliano's eye starts twitching, then he waves for his men to put their guns away. His revolver remains pointed at her head. 

"Fine, Puzo. Have it your way."

Juliano uses his foot to kick the limp body forward until it rolls off the front edge of the stage. It hits the ground like a sack of potatoes.  
Juliano walks to the edge of the stage and descends the stairs to a nearby table. He resumes pointing his firearm at the body. It's still hard to tell if it's Elizabeth or not, I can't get a good look at the face. I only have his word that it's her. My gut tells me to call his bluff. I take a steadying breath and toy with the chain to my chatelaine.

"This is an awful lot of trouble to go through to ask me a simple question, Francisco."

Juliano snarls at me. "Why was your sister in that special Lawyer's office? I'm hearing rumblings about something going down, and this feels like you're planning something."

I slowly blink and I lie. _Cazzo di merda_ , I lie through my teeth. "I don't know Frank. I haven't seen Stella since I brought her upstate. She finished her course of treatment. I'm starting to think you might benefit from a stay yourself." It's taking a lot to keep my cool, but knowing that Nino is outside with everyone helps a lot. Still, I feel beads of sweat gathering under my collar. This is getting too fucking close.

We stare at each other for a good long while. Then, Juliano disengages the hammer on the revolver, putting it in the holster inside of his jacket. "We're done here. If I see you so much as sniff at that prosecutor, we'll talk about this at the Assembly." He pulls out a cigar, clipping the end first, then lighting it up to take a few puffs. He motions to one of his men to pick up the limp form and bring it to him and waves me off. "You're _dismissed_ , Vitto."

I watch the guy lift the body to just sling her callously over his shoulder. A nice bruise blooms on her forearm where the floor met resistance. I keep praying that I was right and this was someone else. I can't imagine Juliano being that crazy. At least I called it correctly to not take the bait. Carmine puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes. Indicating that we should take our leave. Don't want to overstay our welcome.

\---

Nino dismisses everyone who was waiting when he sees Carmine and I exit unscathed. I'm still not certain that wasn't Elizabeth, but while Juliano indicated we were playing roulette, the actual game was poker. I couldn't afford to make a mistake, even if it was some other girl. His issue was with me, and we should have had it out man to man. It makes me wonder how the hell his family still runs at all when he doesn't seem to act within reason. My hands are shaky from the adrenaline, so I reach for my cigarette case.

We only have a few days before the dinner. I nod to a couple of my boys approaching as I light up. "Nino, how's our little touch-up coming?"

Nino flashes me a confident thumbs up. "It's all set, Boss." Only a few days now until we're finally rid of this madman. Assembly is early next week. There's still so much that can go wrong. 

\---

I don't hear from Elizabeth for two days after Juliano's big charade. Whenever Carmine leaves the Villa and I am alone with my thoughts, I drift to that limp body on the floor. I'm still not certain it was Elizabeth. She looked strikingly similar, but I never got a good look at her face. There was so much makeup, it could have been anyone.

What if it was Elizabeth? Does Juliano really value her life so cheaply? Did I say anything that might have ruined anything between us? Only a couple more days, I tell myself. I can’t spiral into those thoughts like last time. I just need to trust her. I drum my fingers on the leather pad of my study desk. 

_Madre di Dio, odio aspettare._

\---

It's the morning of the dinner. The Villa phone rings. 

"Mrs. Molly, it's me. They gave me this number when I couldn't reach you at the other number. I'm with Mr. Juliano today for his birthday."

I swallow thickly. Something's very wrong. "Are you alone right now? Are you alright?"

A pause. Then in hushed tones, "He’s changed the venue. It's some place with an Aunt Tara and excellent creamy risotto. I have no idea where it is. I know what I need to do. I'm sor--"

I hear Juliano's voice in the background, but I can't make out what he's saying. 

"Yes, Mrs. Molly, I'll be out all night. Don't wait up." And the line goes dead as she hangs up on me.

I kick over the phone table with a roar. The flower vase shatters on the floor, some distance away. Can't fucking believe this. _"Cazzo Madre di Dio! Brutto figlio di puttana bastardo! Quel piccolo bastardo maledetto!"_ I am bellowing so loudly I feel the blood rushing to my face. _I need to calm down._ She's trying to keep this together. She took a big risk in calling me at his house.

I need a smoke. I rush to my overcoat for my cigarette case. In my haste I'm fumbling with it, and nearly empty it of all its contents. Useless fucking hands. Fuck. I manage to get one into my mouth and light it. I take a deep drag and back against the wall, grounding myself as I slide down it. There's got to be an Aunt Tara for every five Italian families in the city. Fuck! I need to call Nino.

I look over at the phone on the floor. It doesn't look worse for wear. I crawl over to it and put the receiver to my ear. There's a dial tone. Frantically dialing on the rotary, I call Nino. He was planning on staying home until the action, but not if I have anything to say about it. Flick, click, click, click. The rhythm of the rotary dial is oblivious to my sense of urgency.

A sleepy voice finally answers the phone with a grunt.

"Nino, _where in the hell is there a restaurant with an Aunt Tara and an excellent creamy risotto?_ " My voice is hoarse from my prior screaming.

"Oh shhh--! Boss! Uh… you're gonna have to give me a minute, I just woke up and--"

"Get your boys and comb all of Little Italy. Now. It's not at Salumi's anymore."

" _Sfacim e merde!_ I'll round them up right away!"

I toggle the plunger to hang up. Carmine walks in, drinking a cup of coffee.

"When are we leaving, Boss?"

"As soon as you drag me up off the floor. And bring me a drink. I need to change into something less polished."

\---

Carmine drives as fast as can be expected. Not every road is straight back into the city. I dressed down for the occasion, wearing one of Carmine's hats, a worn muffler wrapped around my face, and a tattered coat over one of my old shirts and slacks. I'm starting to sweat but I don't care. I need to get my feet on the pavement. We all agreed to meet near Salumi's and branch out.

Nino brought over our best sharpshooter, he was disappointed he didn't get to do this at Salumi's. He's going to wait by the payphone until we call it. The margin of error is so high. What if she can't find a place to hide the gun? What if she sticks it inside the water tank? I smack my head. I didn't warn her to not submerge the gun. While it'll still fire, it's not doing us any favors. I do not like these odds. _Cazzo_. I check my pocket watch, we only have a few hours. Three at best.

While "Little Italy" is a tight neighborhood, family style Italian restaurants can be almost anywhere. Especially if they don't advertise. Nino directs everyone present to each take different streets along the grid that makes up Little Italy. It butts right up against the bustling Chinatown neighborhood. We're starting from the eastern edge and combing west. It's logical. But it might take too much time. 

After the other men scatter, I approach Nino.

"I'm going to drive around with Carmine to look for Juliano's boys. They're likely going to be standing guard outside."

"Boss?! I think you should sit this one out - we got enough guys. You don't sound so good."

"No. There's too much at stake here." I probably smell like an ashtray that suddenly learned to talk. 

"If you insist, but I'm driving you. We'll take my car."

I wave to Carmine to have him drive around on his own. Nino and I get into his beat-up Dodge. Functional, not flashy -- fits his motto. He pops the cap off a soda and hands it to me. I accept it gratefully. I didn't feel how scratchy my throat was until the stinging bubbles hit it, followed by the cool wet sensation from the actual drink.

Time slips through our fingers. I scan the sidewalks looking for anything. Anything at all.  
Near the time of the dinner, several blocks away from Salumi's, I recognize Juliano's ugly mug ushering in Miss Colvin, in a fur coat with long gloves. Long enough to cover those bruises I saw. I slap Nino's arm, he looks at me momentarily hurt, but follows where my finger is pointing.

We pull over the car and Nino hops out to dial the other payphone. The view here isn't good enough to monitor the situation. I get out of the car and run down the opposite side of the street. I rush into the bakery facing the restaurant and buy some cookies. I just hope we have enough time. I stand outside, staring into the establishment. 

Juliano looks almost human here, sitting with close family and friends. He doesn't look like the monster from a few days ago. But that's why he's retained control. He knows when the claws need to be hidden. Miss Colvin gets up and goes to the ladies' room. Nino catches up with me, panting and out of breath.

"Boss, we should go. He's on his way over. If you're seen over here for the hit..."

He's right. I have to trust her. Even though it hurts me to leave her. Nino brings me back to his car and we drive away. I'll have to wait to see if these plans come to fruition.

_Odio aspettare._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by: astroAntagonist, VerdiWithin, and Red
> 
>  _cretino_ \- cretin  
>  _Cazzo di merda_ \- expletive (similar to f*cking shit)  
>  _Madre di Dio, odio aspettare_ \- Mother of God, I hate waiting.  
>  _Cazzo Madre di Dio! Brutto figlio di puttana bastardo! Quel piccolo bastardo maledetto!_ \- F*ck Mother of God! You bastard son of a b*tch! That cursed little bastard! (or small d*cked bastard)  
>  _Sfacim e merde!_ \- expletive F#$%ing s#$t. Literally means “without p#$%y” but can mean “bad luck”


	26. Chapter 26

It makes front page news. Shots fired in a failed assassination attempt! Carmine had picked up the sharpshooter. Apparently my worst fear had come true - Miss Colvin had dropped the gun into the water tank. Our man could only take one shot as the couple was leaving - a glancing shot along Juliano's side. The ammo was too wet to fire, so our guy had to unload and reload with the bullets he brought with him. He only had the time to fire one shot. He was hit when fleeing through the back. His hand will be okay, but his shooting days are likely over. 

The only silver lining is that between the attack and the rumblings of uncontrollable police activity, the Juliano Family has called off the assembly meeting. Juliano himself was feeling the heat and skipped town with Miss Dawson in tow. None of my boys know where they went. We spend a few days searching, but turn up with nothing. I start buying papers from the greater Tri-State area to comb through them, for something, anything.

\---

New day, new front page. Boseman and Dewey oversaw one of the largest coordinated police raids in the city. Amazing really, given the number of crooked cops in the force. They had to have cops everywhere, but all the orders were sealed. Everyone had different partners than they usually worked with to keep exact locations under wraps. Eighty locations were targeted, about half were successfully raided. I imagine some pairs were still conspiring to keep people protected. _Tipica. They didn’t arrest everyone, just...held the girls and madams without bail, along with any men they grabbed who weren’t visiting johns. A lot of the men swept up in this spanned from the “respectable” -- bankers, politicians, doctors, priests -- to the dubious. A warrant is out for Juliano’s arrest, but it only stays front page news in New York City. It's under the fold elsewhere._

__

I should be happier about this. But I’m not. I try continuing on as planned.

I have dinner with Charles "Caliddo" Costello, an old friend from when I first came to America. He's Juliano's underboss, and took over the day to day operations of what his Family had left. We meet at Manny Wolf's. I try to keep up appearances, but I manage to only pick at my food. My appetite was lost the day I heard Miss Colvin disappeared with Juliano. Costello is eating with gusto, updating me between bites of food.

"I don't know where Frankie got to, Vitto. The rest of the family is anxious to know where he is too. Rumor has it that the prosecutor's office managed to get a mountain of evidence for the inevitable trial. There's a lot of guys sweatin'. I'm a little concerned with whatever is going to be left."

"Mmm."

"Are you listenin', Vitto? There's gonna be a power vacuum. There's not many others who command the level of loyalty you do. This may be your opportunity to make a stamp on things! It's what you've been itchin' for!" There’s truth in his words, it is what I’ve been working for. This must be what those eggheads call a “pyrrhic victory.”

I frown and stare at my barely eaten steak, pushing peas around the plate idly with my fork. Costello stops eating and taps on my steak with his knife.

"Vitto, that's gonna turn into cold rubber if you don't eat it."

"Sorry Caliddo, I'm not in the mood for food. I should have warned you."

"Say, what's eatin' you?"

"I...just been feeling low. This victory feels a little hollow."

"You find something else to fill your heart then? I remember you threw yourself into this work after your parents got bumped." He dabs his napkin to his mouth, to wipe the sauce away.

"Something like that."

Costello’s smile suddenly turns shrewd. "Anything to do with that Mona Lisa Juliano ran away with?"

I hatefully stab the fork into my steak, hard. I remain quiet. Costello clears his throat.

"Oh...I see that's a bit of a raw nerve. Wasn't sure if the rumors about you two were true."

"It's not like that, Caliddo. But it's good you're getting to where you need to be. I'm surprised you've kept out of his whole _'Combinazione.'"_

__

__

"I told him I didn't have the stomach for it, but I would keep his fronts running smoothly. Only had to know who accepted the grease." He shrugs.

"I'm sure I'll feel better about more friendly relations with your boys soon. I just need to take some time away, I think. You can take the steak if you want." I get up to leave, putting on my overcoat and gloves.

"Don't be a stranger, Vitto. Ring me if you need anything." We wave to each other, and I go out into the street. It's November now. And bitterly cold.

I stop by to see Stella. She and Susanna have parlayed their performance for Boseman into a few newspaper interviews, and some notoriety.  
Stella has re-invented herself, managing to become a clotheshorse to some lower fashion rag. Any lost soul with a heart of gold is like something out of a movie, and given that Susanna was actually there, she concocts a convincing backstory for the smaller rags. It doesn't last forever, but it looks like she had her fill of excitement. 

"Lupo, there's some mail for you." Stella holds out a postcard.

I look at the image of Central Park, an engraved print. On the other side, in her patient handwriting, I read:

_Not sure where we're going. Please don't worry. I bought a folio. I'll send more._

Addressed to:

_V. Colvin_

I'm glad to hear from her, but it's so little to go on. The postmark indicates it was picked up and cancelled in Philadelphia yesterday. She might be on a train. 

Juliano must be travelling under an assumed identity. I wonder how long he can run. He's got plenty of resources, but while there's plenty of friendly cities he could flee to, Johnny Law down south tends to value self-righteousness more than anything. That and disliking folks who are too different from them. He can only run so far before his luck runs out.

My anxiety lowers somewhat. I'm still nervous though. I don't think I'll fully calm down until she's safe in my arms again, but it's enough to sleep tonight.

\---

Another postcard arrives, dated the day after the last. Postmark is in Cleveland. They’re going further west.

 _I have a plan. Please trust me. I know you want him dead, I do too._

I wonder where she’s writing these so Juliano doesn’t see. Probably a train bathroom is the only place she can get away from him. I put this postcard with the previous one and think. 

This looks like they're heading to Chicago. I wonder how long Juliano thinks the Chicago Outfit would hide him. Especially when they see the wires out of New York. I anxiously await her postcards. I need to know where I can find her. Where she can be safe.

The fact that I am forced to stay my hand because of law enforcement's involvement strains my conscience. I'm paralyzed by self preservation, at the risk of losing Elizabeth. She asked me to trust her. Forced to take a passive role in this is eating me up inside. I should have gotten ahead of this. I should be calling Paul, to pull ahead now.

But Elizabeth knew I would come for her, that I would want to do things my way. I would have prevented her from getting justice on her own terms. This inner debate where I am doubting if I could have done more and convincing myself of the opposite overwhelms every thought. _Il mio cuore solitario grida per lei._

I drown out the internal discourse with firewater to finally get some sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by: VerdiWithin, Red, and astroAntagonist 
> 
> Note:
> 
> The gangster Charles "Lucky" Luciano was the inspiration of the character of Francisco Juliano in DUTP. I wanted to give Elizabeth a way to deal with Juliano on her own terms without having that agency taken away from her. She's capable of cleaning up her own messes. Vittorio is not a white knight, but a human being with vices and emotions -- someone who wants to be loved and maybe to be vulnerable with someone else in return. Just some thoughts.
> 
>  _tipica_ \- typical  
>  _Il mio cuore solitario grida per lei._ \- my lonely heart cries out for her


	27. Chapter 27

Stella shakes me awake. I must have fallen asleep on her couch. Technically, I own this couch, but Stella has laid claim to whatever I left behind at the Brownstone.

" _Lupo_ , there's another postcard. Also go wash yourself. You stink of booze." Stella wrinkles her nose, her senses offended.

I go to the pile of mail Stella left near the telephone. I snatch the postcard. Turning it over, the postmark is from Chicago, a day after the last one. They're starting to take longer to get here. I greedily read.

_I'm running out of cards. I miss you. I'll find an opportunity soon._

The message is short, but I'm hopeful she'll stay put. When she can. I take Stella's advice to get cleaned up.

I scrub half-heartedly. I don't have anyone I'm trying to impress right now, and that's including myself. I don't feel very much like _Il Lupo,_ the alpha of the Puzo Family. I feel more like _il ragazzino_ , the boy who lost his parents after coming to a new country. The grime swirls down the drain, but I still don't feel clean.

I call Carmine to have him bring me over to the Villa. I'm still feeling a little cloudy from the previous night's bender. Maybe I should find a way to clear my head. It's been so hard to focus with my constant desire to drink fogging my mind. It's the only tool that can drown my sorrows, literally.

The next few days blur together. I spend most of them just combing through the newspapers from Chicago. No news. Whoever said no news is good news needs to be shot. No news is driving me insane. Carmine stays close, answering the phone on my behalf. Though he's getting concerned. He's threatened to bring over Nino a few times, but I waved him off.

It's a chilly Friday, almost two weeks after her last postcard, when the breaking news hits the New York papers.

 _Mobster on the Run, Collared At Last!_  
Found in Hot Springs, AR

_Flamboyant mobster Francisco Juliano was apprehended by a vacationing detective. He originally disappeared with his lover, the mysterious Mona Lisa Dawson from New York. She has yet to be located.  
Mr. Juliano is being extradited back to New York City, and is awaiting trial for 62 counts of Compulsory Prostitution. Court date is in…_

Miss Dawson has yet to be located. Maybe she got away? I start fingering through my stack of other newspapers. I get a sudden thought…Nino knows a few news guys.

I dial hurriedly, my rising anxiety causing me to fumble nearly every turn of the dial.

"Boss! I ain't heard from you in a while! It's ok, Carmine told me you weren't feeling good."

"I need any newspapers you can get from Arkansas. Call around if you have to. News just came out that Juliano has been found, but there's no word on his partner, 'Miss Dawson.'"

" _Cazzo_. We'll do what we can, Boss."

Maybe she went home? Her family was in Illinois, weren't they? I dial up Paul's house.

"De lucia residence."

"Hello, this is Vittorio Puzo from New York, I'm calling for Paul, please."

Paul's gravelly voice is a comfort. "Vitto! Nice to hear from ya. Quite the shakeup in your neck of woods isn't it?"

"Indeed it is Paul. Better off without that kind of business, anyway. Listen, I have a favor to ask."

"Anything you need."

"Can you give me the address of the Colvin Family? They were the folks that Rossi was messing with a few months back."

"Sure, sure….but er...does this have anything to do with why you've been refusing so many social calls? Word gets around Vitto. You should be celebrating! I heard your Alicia sweet-talked many of Juliano's folks into coming under your umbrella. It's not like you to be this...well this anti-social." He says it like "aunty social" but I get his drift.

"Still makin' a lot of moves, Paul. The world's changing. It wasn't that long ago that Mussolini cleared out all the big Sicilian families back home. I'm just hoping to keep the engine running."

"You sound like your dog died. What's eating at you, kid?" I fail to repress my annoyed huff. _Do I really sound like I need this much help?_

" _Oddio_ , you sound like Caliddo. He asked me the same thing at dinner a few weeks ago when Frank first skipped town. I'm just hung up on a woman I guess."

"Charlie called me last week, he said you were with Juliano's girl?"

"I'm not going to dignify that gossip with a response. Just the address I'm looking for is fine, Paul."

"Ok, ok… guess it's still a touchy subject. They live down in Greenville. On Larch lane just north of town center. Big yellow house. Hard to miss. And Vitto, take care of yourself, please."

"I will. Thank you, Paul. I'll work more on keeping in touch." I hang up the receiver. It's funny how easy it is to forget that in a country as big as America, our world is so small. We all know each other and a little of each other's business.

Carmine brings me a few postcards that arrived, some of them quite late judging by the cancellation stamps on them. It's more pictures from the same set. These folios don't usually have very many cards, and I'm almost afraid to read what's on the other sides. These might be the last ones I get.

I try to just focus on the date marks, and arrange them in the order they were sent.  
I line up the cards in ascending order to read, my heart on edge, throat clenched with tension.

_It's hard to feel safe when everyone is looking for you. I just couldn't do it anymore. He kept looking at me as if I was his only friend._

_I was his captive. His ransom. A pretty thing he didn't want to lose._

_It sounds like the machine is in motion from what I've been able to catch in the news. I just want him gone._

_It should be over soon. Lisa Dawson will be no more. Just another pretty, lost showgirl forgotten and discarded._

I understand the words, but I feel like I am not getting the full meaning. As I puzzle over them, there's a racket on the landing downstairs as if someone kicked the door in.

"Boss! I got your papers! They even let me get some older ones too!" It's Nino. That was faster than I expected.

I rush downstairs and meet him at the door. He has newspapers piled up to his hat. I take the first dozen or so, immediately turning to the sitting room. We dump the papers on the coffee table there.

"So, uh, what're we lookin' for in these?" He shuffles lazily through them like a deck of cards.

"Anything mentioning Dawson or Juliano." My rustling through them is more frantic.

"I thought you said he was already found?"

I love Nino like a brother, but I hate him like one, too. "I want to know where Miss Colvin is. She was last seen with him."

"Ohhhh…" Nino falls silent as his speed increases, completely engrossed in the task ahead.

We go through the papers from cover to cover. Reading about spelling bees, lost dogs, cars for sale. All of the little things that make up the news in sleepier places. If anything, they should stick out like a sore thumb.

Unfortunately, we don't find any news articles on them. A certain entry in the obituaries of today's issue catches my eye, though.

_Miss Lisa Dawson_

_Widely known for her tabloid relationship with feared mobster, Francisco Juliano._   
_She was born to two blueberry farmers in Hillsdale, NJ. They had hopes she would find honest work in the city when the Depression hit._   
_Lisa was a lovely nightclub performer at the Sparrow Room in New York City. She will be remembered for her dazzling platinum blonde bob and mysterious smile._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by: Red, astroAntagonist, and VerdiWithin
> 
> note:
> 
>  _il ragazzino_ \- the little boy  
>  _oddio_ \- oh my god!


	28. Chapter 28

It has to be some sick joke. Someone is having me on. I wonder if this is Juliano's last laugh - an obituary for his girl. One last thumbing at me. I let the newspaper fall to the table and go to the wet bar. I need a drink.

Nino looks over the entry. "Huh. Bit weird, don't you think?"

"How do you mean, Nino?" I’m suddenly very tired.

"Well, usually they talk more about what they might have done, but it mostly says she was with Juliano and was in the Sparrow Room. Aren’t obituaries and memorials supposed to be a bit more sentimental?"

"It seems like it's one last throw of salt into the wound from Frank." I sigh and rub my hand over my face, as if doing so would leave that business finished.

"But that's what I mean, Boss. If this was Mr. Juliano’s doing, wouldn't this read well, a little  _ meaner _ ?"

He's got a point. Juliano's style usually involves sending a message, or making an example out of someone. My mind flashes to Elizabeth's old clippings from her scrapbook. This reminds me of the articles she had to write about fashion. Clinical, dry, bored. A hurried tying of loose ends. I read through it again.

"Nino, are you thinking that maybe she wrote it to disappear?"

"Maybe, Boss. She’s a smart little tomato, I wouldn’t put it past her."

I sit and think on this. Maybe it would be worth seeing if she just went to her real home. Out in Illinois. "Nino, I need you to hold down the operation. I'll be making a trip out west."

\---

It's strange how in less than six months, I've changed how I do things so drastically. Six months ago I would not feel comfortable leaving control of my family to my underbosses. I'm used to being somewhat of a tinkerer...though some would call it being a busybody. I can't pretend that I don't have a strong need to control as much as I possibly can; the more factors you have control over, the less variables you have to worry about. 

Six months ago I met a stranger by chance in the mental health wing of a beat up city Hospital. Little by little she kept finding ways into my life -- and I found myself wanting to know more. Now I’m sitting on a train going to a place I've never been... all for the hope of seeing her again.

While sometimes it's nice to drive, I find that there's something comforting about a train. There's only one place it takes you - your destination. Always have to follow the rails. And as the wheels follow the rails, the steady rhythm lulls even the most agitated person to sleep. For the first time in two weeks, I nod off, lulled by the soothing rocking of the train.

\---

The whine of the brakes and that screeching of metal on metal jars me from my slumber. I made it to Chicago. I'll have to get on another train to head south towards Greenville. A change of trains again in Effingham to head towards St Louis. The last stop on the line before you cross the state borders, is the sleepy farm town of Greenville. 

I’m wearing my long wool overcoat and my suits in that City slicker style...I stick out like a sore thumb. I feel self-conscious here -- like everyone's watching me. While I'm used to that feeling in New York, it's usually with a sense of fear or respect. Here it's just with an air of wary distrust. I'm more eager than ever to find Elizabeth and take her East - back home.

I stop at the general store in the center of town to get some directions to Larch Lane. They draw me a crude map of Greenville showing me where the train station is in relation to the city center and where I need to go. I thank the store clerk and proceed outside.

Unlike some of the boroughs in New York and some ancient parts of the country, Greenville is laid out on a grid, much like Chicago. Granted the grid that makes up Chicago is completely full, while the grid that makes up Greenfield seems to be eaten by farmland around the edges. The address Paul described to me is in the northeastern edge of town, right along the outskirts. 

After about an hour of walking I get to the street I've been thinking about this whole trip. I see the big yellow house -- Paul was right, can't miss it. I nervously approach the door and knock. No one answers, so I try knocking again, this time a little harder. The door swings slightly ajar. I tentatively poke my head inside the threshold.

Empty.

There's nothing here.

I fully step inside the house and walk around. There's a thin layer of dust, but my footprints seem to be the first ones to leave a mark on the hardwood floors. Along the walls there's some faint stains on the walls showing the silhouettes of furniture and pictures that used to be there. A china hutch here, a couple of plates along the picture rail, a hall table, sideboard… only their ghosts remain.

The story is the same everywhere I go in the house. Nobody's home, just wisps of memory. Did I imagine Elizabeth?  _ Maybe she isn't even real. _ This wild goose chase dead ends here.

No. No it can't end like this.  _ I’m not crazy. _ Her family was here, and Paul wouldn't lie to me. I leave and go to the neighbor's house, knocking on the door perhaps a little too eagerly. But I'm feeling desperate. It takes some patience, but they finally open the door, just a crack.

"Who are you? We don't want any trouble!" An older woman peers at me, one who doesn’t trust outsiders, it seems.

"That yellow house next to you, the Colvins...where did they go?"

"I dunno. They just moved. Maybe a week ago? Just up and left."  _ At least I can quiet that part of my mind. _

"Did they say where they were going?"

"No."  _ Dannazione  _ these small communities covering for their own. I need answers!

"Was their daughter with them?"

"Liz? Not sure. It's been a long time since I've seen 'er. Long before the Colvins moved."

My shoulders slump. I feel my resolve crumbling, and that annoying itch in the back of my mind is becoming more insistant.

"Why you wanna know? She in some kind of trouble?"

I shake my head, feeling every inch the heartsick dandy from New York. The gossip of my visit will fly through this little town like wildfire, may as well lean into it. "I just...miss her is all."

"Sorry I couldn't be more help." Her cold distrust melts a little into sympathy.

"No ma’am, I'm sorry to bother you. Thank you for the trouble." I pull out a bill from my wallet to give them, it's the least I could do for disturbing their peace.

She looks at it, unsure. "You want a ride back in town?"

"That's not necessary, I could use some time alone. Thanks again." My anxiety sends skitters across my skin, heightening that maddening itch for a cigarette.

She hesitantly accepts my offered bill and closes the door. I head back to the street, light up my cigarette and start walking back into town. 

Maybe I got this all wrong.  _ Passerotta _ just entertained me until she got what she came for. She just wanted answers to her questions. She didn't want to get tangled up in Family business or our little proxy war. She just wanted justice - on her own terms.

I feel so foolish for thinking that maybe she saw past the hardened mafioso to the lonely man underneath. I didn't realize I was so starved for affection, until I had those stolen moments alone with her. 

That one wonderful morning, when we were both just two  _ humans _ . Not any labels, jobs, or roles. Just two people, who felt like they were connected. That day I felt something for her and thought maybe she did too.

I've never been much for crying, and even now, no tears come. There always has to be something that separates us from the rest of society. I suppose that makes me less human. It's just as well. Being vulnerable never got me anywhere. That's why I leaned into becoming  _ Il Lupo _ .  _ Il Lupo Solitario _ is what they should be calling me. I've always been alone, and now I suppose I always will be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by: astroAntagonist, Red, & Verdi Within


	29. Chapter 29

I can't remember the journey back to New York. I've been drinking the entire trip. Occasionally having a crust of bread to soak up the liquor in my belly. After the train pulls into Penn Station, I wander to the phone booth outside. I call Nino with the last few coins in my pocket. Can't pay a phone with dollar bills.

"Niiiinnno." My voice slurs around. Still buzzing. I touch my face a few times and get lost in the sensation of leather on my bare skin.

"Boss?? What's goin' on???? It's after midnight and...you sound like you're completely bombed outta your mind. Where the hell are you? You said you took a trip west and didn't call anyone. It's been a week!"

"Trainnn. Ssshhhtation...I'm gonna sit down. My visi-, viso-, vishhhh…everythin's spinning." Why couldn't everything just stay still for a minute. I’m trying to have a damn conversation and my lips won't move fast enough.

"Yeah you're completely blitzed. Stay there. You at Penn station, Boss? We'll come get you."

"Sh'okaaay. I'm fine, I'm fff-" I trail off into a spray of spit that dribbles onto my coat.

"Sit down will ya? I'm taking you home." At least I think that's what he said. My ears are buzzing. I hear a click and then the dial tone. I slam the receiver down, but my coordination is fucked. I miss the holder several times before smashing it against the body of the pay phone. Whoops.

I struggle with the door -- it was so easy to get in, why's it so hard to get out? I push hard in the middle hinge. The door opens, but claps hard on my forearms. _Porca troia_!  
I manage to free my arms and I cautiously exit the booth. Dizzy. I feel very dizzy. I grab back on to the booth. The world stops spinning long enough to see attendants discussing the need for a policeman to come take care of the bum . _Fanculo alla polizia, dormirò in panchina se ne ho voglia_.

My mouth starts feeling very wet. Oh no. I know this feeling all too well. Where's a trash can? I can't vomit on these shoes. I don't know why my mind goes there, but I cannot vomit on my leather shoes. I swing my head around and I spy a glossy black shape, or what looks like one. I run at it full sprint and scramble to grasp it. The soles of my shoes slip out from under me and I falter. It takes all of my concentration to pull myself up along the rim. Thank god these bastards are wrought iron. And that this was already heavy with snow and trash. I lean my head over just in time to empty my guts into the heap inside.

I hadn't been eating much, so it's mostly liquid that forms a hole in the snow piled inside. The bitter, acrid taste in my mouth pulls me back to reality. She didn't want to see me, I think. She dusted up all her trails behind her, covered every last track. I have nothing left. I feel an unbearable pressure weighing down my chest, then two sets of strong arms lifting me up. I suddenly realize I can't really hear much at the moment. It all sounds so far away...underwater. My head rolls over to faintly recognize Nino reaching for my face before everything goes black.

\---

I wake up and my head is pounding. I pat the surface I'm lying on. It's one of the couches in the Brownstone. I look across the table. Nino, Stella, and Carmine are there, watching me.

Stella is the first to speak, " _Lupo_ , we've been worried sick about you! Why were you so loaded? You couldn't even stand up! What would people think?"

"Nnngh… I don't care what people think right now, Stella. I don't care about anything anymore."

They whisper amongst themselves but I can't make anything out. The pain in my head throbs too much to concentrate.

Carmine says,"Boss, maybe you shouldn't be alone for a while. There's plenty of room here. And someone needs to make sure you're eating."

Nino adds, "Yeah, and you're in no state to cook - we'll bring you food. We know Stella can burn water...Ow!" Stella punches Nino in the arm. I'd laugh if a woodpecker hadn’t taken up residence in my skull. I hold my head as I sit up and I feel my face contorting in pain. Carmine presses two aspirin tablets into my hand. I pop them in my mouth. He follows that up with a glass of water. I take a sip to swallow the pills, then drain the glass with a gasp.

My voice sounds foreign to me, but the vibrations in my throat tell me it's mine. "What day is it?"

Carmine speaks up. "Well, it's a week before Christmas. You were travelling during Thanksgiving, and you have been out of it for days since you got home. We removed all the alcohol from the house until you prove you can handle it again." Carmine leaves to go refill my empty glass.

"More like Stella drank all of it-- Ow! Hey, you punch pretty hard for a dish!" Nino rubs his arm.

"Please don't call my sister a dish. What would Gianna think?"

"Slip of the tongue, sorry Boss."

"At least I can hold my liquor, unlike some people." Stella sticks her tongue out at me.

"Point taken...anything else I should be aware of, or am I just going to be treated like a brat for a while?" I rub my temples. The pressure from my headache is starting to subside.

Stella looks at Nino, who nods. She says softly, "If you're feeling okay, there's a postcard for you." She gets up and heads over to the phone table.

I make a motion to get up, but Carmine lays a firm hand on my shoulder and keeps me seated. He presses the refilled water glass into my hand.

"Boss, you should stay seated for this one."

Stella brings the last postcard, postmarked December 14. I recognize her handwriting immediately and my heart drops to my shoes.

" _Perhaps it's better if I live in your heart, where the world can't see me._ "

Nothing else is written. The picture is of the obelisk in Central Park: a lone white pillar in a field of green. I want to be alone for a while. I get up and shuffle like a dead man to my old bedroom. Elizabeth's stuff is still strewn about from where Stella staged it ages ago. I put the last card into her scrapbook and close the cover with a sense of finality. I hug the book to my chest, its weight being my only comfort. I don't remember falling asleep.

\---

I don't know what to make of this last message. Is she saying good-bye? _Is she really gone?_ While the alcohol has been taken away from me, I still have my cigarettes. I smoke, if only to have something to occupy myself. I spend most days checking in with Nino and Stella.

Stella has brought me matters that require my pressing attention, but for the most part has left me alone, except for meal time. While it's true that Stella is a disaster in the kitchen, she makes sure I eat a sit down meal at least twice a day, and at dinner Carmine and Susanna join us.

Susanna now has a job in a department store on 5th Avenue. It started as a way to get out of the house, but she's taken to it well. She also took notes during Miss Colvin's flirting lessons, and manages to pull in decent commissions from unsuspecting men looking to buy a treat for their girls.

Even Costello is over the moon, Juliano's been in a high security prison upstate, and no one wants to touch him because of the mountain of evidence there is rumored to be. Anyone involved in the Combination or the nightclubs has been looked at with suspicion, or otherwise had their ties with the larger family cut. I wonder what that prosecutor could have that would shut up Juliano. Costello agrees it's a bit eerie, and tries to maintain a low profile while they're reorganizing. He promised me a few restaurants. I should be over the moon, but...

Nothing feels the same anymore. I go out for my cigarettes, fearful that smoking indoors would obliterate any last traces of her perfume from the belongings she’s left. I see happy couples and families out shopping and it makes me sick. The happiest time of the year has become my most miserable.

Christmas Eve, I want to be mournful and alone. Stella drags me over to Nino's for dinner. Nino's wife, Gianna, goes all out as Sicilians do, with a Feast of Seven Fishes. Nino's contribution was to add a mountain of meatballs, even though good Catholics would be sticking to the fish today. Then again, we technically do worse in our day to day. He was just happy to finally get me out of the Brownstone. Afterwards, we go to midnight Mass. Having time to reflect is pulling me together.

Christmas Day I intend to spend alone by the fire. I had hoped for more postcards from Elizabeth, but I fear the worst. I have to accept that she is gone. On a whim, I go visit the Obelisk in Central Park. My heart is utterly spent from mourning. I look around Cleopatra's Needle, for any trace of her. I think I smelled her perfume a few times, and every platinum blonde woman still raises my heart rate, until I see it's not Elizabeth. It stings bitterly and I wonder if it will ever get better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by: VerdiWithin, astroAntagonist, and Red
> 
> Writing Vitto being completely out of it was fun.
> 
> Note:
> 
>  _Porca troia!_ \- expletive - equivalent holy sh*t  
>  _Fanculo alla polizia, dormirò in panchina se ne ho voglia_. - f*ck the police, I will sleep on the bench if I feel like it


	30. Chapter 30

Stella lets me have a glass of champagne on New Years' Eve. It tastes bitter, but I still drain it like it's juice. She takes the bottle away after my one glass.

"Clearly you're not ready. So much for being generous, _Lupo_."

She takes away the cookies too. For some reason that smarts a little more than withholding the booze.

"Really? The cookies too?" I yell after her. She ignores me. Susanna shoots me a look of pity, and I retreat back to my room, slamming the door. _When did I sink so low_? How am I this broken up over some broad? How the mighty have fallen I think is what they say…

I drift to sleep and dream of what I've lost this year. Who I've lost this year.

\---

My mouth is dry and I recognize the awful taste. Because I didn't eat or drink any water after my one glass of champagne, I wake up with a massive headache. I reach for the aspirin bottle near the bed. Empty. I manage to pull myself to the bathroom to get the spare bottle and shake out a few tablets. I drink some water and head back out to the couch.

New day, new year. I manage to put myself somewhat together, and go out again to Central Park. To the Needle. I feel slightly better this time, but still painfully alone. I stand there for a while and close my eyes. After a while, I hear the crunch of footsteps in the snow. I turn around, and see.. a couple, coming to look at the obelisk. Sigh. When will I stop being so...on edge? I can't live like this.

\---

I throw myself back into my work, but I only eat during business dinners, even then I don't eat much. Costello learns to stop commenting on what I'm not eating. I only manage to carry on in my misery like this through most of January until...February 5th. Usually I make plans with a few of my boys for Saint Agatha's Feastday. I didn't this year. Just feeling a bit numb I guess. I sort of...coasted through the holidays without thinking about the days. I visit Central Park enough times to figure out when it's quiet. I plan to go there again today. Maybe I'll have the courage to talk out my feelings. I just don't want to open myself up to people. Being vulnerable is a liability. I close my eyes to catch another nap...

A flurry of footsteps followed by a familiar frenzied knock at the door. Nino and Gianna turn up at the Brownstone with their children in tow. Everyone is carrying dishes. Looks like plans found me instead. Stella greets them both warmly, clearly she planned this. I suppose I should be grateful, but I'm still a little sour. I'm not in the mood for all their plans. I try to grab my coat and try to leave. I already have a cigarette in my mouth when Gianna stops me. Her grip is unusually strong and surprises me enough that my jaw drops and my smoke tumbles to the floor.

"Gia, What--"

She waves a wooden spoon menacingly to cut me off. " _Don't you Gia me_. Are you seriously going to leave when we brought your sulky ass all this food? You sit your ass down. _Now_." She pulls me by her deathgrip to the table and pushes me into the seat. I don't even have a chance to argue before Nino comes over, patting my shoulder.

"Boss, when Stella told us you weren't eating, Gia was _furious_. Just…sit. She cooks best when she's angry. You're in for a treat."

I sigh and hold my head in my hands. I hear the clink of silverware and feel the various thunks of what I presume is all of the dishes their kids were holding. I smell fresh bread. Well it's Saint Agatha's… probably the bread rolls. When did Stella learn to bake? What else have I been missing while moping about? And then a sharp smack of pain brings me to my senses. I open remove my hands to see a scowling Gianna.

" _I tolerated your sad moping on Christmas. It's now February. Stai scherzando??_ You're basically the head of all the Families with Mr. Juliano sittin' on his ass in jail. It's in every newspaper. I was sorry that you lost your _signora amore_ , but it's time to move on. You have a life. Live it!" I can see exactly why Nino married her.

She's right. I haven't been myself in so long.  
It's not like being sad is going to bring her back. My appetite is still weak from not eating very much, but I make the effort. The spread is, objectively speaking, magnificent. Olives, dates, arancini, savory _càlia e simenza, Minnuzze di Sant'Agata, Torrone_ of _S.Agata_ with ice cream. Mostly sweet foods outside of the _arancini_. I manage to nibble on a small amount of the sweets and slowly pick through a pepperoni stuffed _arancini_. Nino slams his hands on the table.

“Well now, I thought I would have to break out the big guns. Lemme get them out of the oven.”

Oh. Oh no. I really should have seen this coming. Christmas was some store-bought meatballs. Nino opens the oven and the heavenly aroma of _la polpetta perfetta_ washes over everyone. I start salivating, despite my mood. Nino brings the tray over to the table and starts serving everyone else. My sudden interest in food doesn’t go unnoticed, as hard as I was trying. While he dishes out meatballs to everyone, he proceeds to spoon meatballs onto my plate until it is a small mountain. This...this is too many. I try waving him off.

“Now now, Vito. This is how many you normally eat.”

I try to protest, “Yeah but I’m not feeling--”

Nino presses my fork into my hand. “Come Vitto, _è necessario mangiare. Ora!_ ”

I eat.

\---

After they confirm they have stuffed me full, they let me take my smoke break. I still have a chance to get over to Central Park for some time to myself. I stop by a florist for some flowers. I don't have a grave, just some dumb picture on a postcard.

It's nice to have this little family life, even though I feel I am not measuring up. Of course they want the old Vitto back -- but everything these last few months has put me through the wringer. Maybe I can get some closure on this chapter at last.

I look around the small hill it sits on. No one is around the monument. Deep breath.

"Miss Colvin. If you're out there. I've never had anyone see me the way you did. I thought I'd just get over it. But when you told me to only let you live in my heart where the world couldn't see you. I...I feel like I died that day. I haven't been the same since meeting you. You made me lose my composure. You made me feel -- _cazza_ \-- you made me feel human. It sounds corny, I know. But it's true."

I feel my cheeks grow wet with tears. I can't remember the last time I had a good cry. Better late than never. I leave a few loose stems -- a few roses. White roses with a few dyed blue. Eternal loyalty to an unattainable woman. Blue roses don't exist in nature. That's why they symbolize something--or someone -- you can't have. I used to have more time for flowers when my parents were around. When we still lived in Cefalu. When they still lived. I sigh.

Time to move on.

\---

The cold bitter winds have finally started dying down, and all the birds return. All except my _Passerotta_.

Today will bring a close to this sad chapter. It’s the first day of Juliano's trial. I plan on watching. Hopefully it's short. I need to look presentable.

I go to the bathroom and check my reflection.

My beard has fully grown in. The only words that come to mind to describe my appearance...gaunt, haunted, hollow...matches the feeling in my heart. I manage to wash my face, the cool water drawing me back to the present day. I lather up the creamy shave bar with my brush and whip on the foam over my scruff. I meditatively drag the straight razor across my skin, revealing my face bits at a time. As I finish, and rub a dampened towel to catch the last bits of shave foam, I finally see myself, for the first time in months. Probably how my _Nonna_ has always seen me - too skinny. I laugh at the thought. While I haven't been starving, my appetite is still pretty diminished and I’ve lost a lot of weight. The sadness fills the void.

I'm thankful that others have been covering for my absence, but I'll have to move on. They can't carry me forever. I undress and get into the shower, enjoying the hot streams melting away the tension I've been holding for so long.

I emerge from the bathroom feeling more like myself. I go to my old closet - Stella never took my old clothes down, so I guess that's one fear that never came true. Come to think of it, I never got another note from the prosecutor to the Brownstone after Stella and Susanna turned in the collected documents. _Curiouso_.

After getting dressed, Carmine and I head to the courthouse to watch in the gallery. Juliano tries to discredit the witnesses, but there's simply too many of them to ignore. He was even seen entertaining some of these girls in his hotel suite before they ever went to the basement.

Even though I know it's hopeless, I look around for Miss Colvin. _She's gone, Vitto. Stop looking_. It'll only hurt worse. I barely pay attention to the actual proceedings until the very end, when the good prosecutor plays the recorded phone calls between Juliano and Councilman Steve Harris. The entire courtroom is silent. Juliano is hung on the noose of his own words playing back for the trial. Guilty on all counts.

I see Costello after the trial. He's grinning from ear to ear. I manage a weak smile.

"Vitto! Glad you could make it!" He claps my shoulder heartily. "What a careless putz, eh?"

"He thought he was untouchable, _Caliddo_. 'Pride goeth before the fall', as they say."

"Don't be a stranger, now. Stella's got some good ideas though. Useful to have in the room."

"Oh is she now? I'll have to keep that in mind."

Costello looks at me, and says in a softer tone, "Still missing your girl?"

"I'm almost over it. I can't keep wallowing forever."

"I'm sure Evie has some friends she could introduce you to!" Evie Bellini, now Costello's wife. She grew up in the states, but her family was from Northern Italy. Exotic to him, but still pretty much from home.

"Not really interested. But thank you." I wave and we part ways for now.

\---

It's a nice enough day to go to Central Park. I wander, like I do so often, until I end up at the Cleopatra's Needle. I’ve visited this occasionally as a way to talk out my thoughts to Elizabeth. Today something catches my eye.

At the base of the obelisk is an envelope. Addressed to me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by: Red, VerdiWithin, and astroAntagonist
> 
> Yes, he needed one more chapter to get his shit together with the help of Nino.
> 
> Note:
> 
> Olives, dates, arancini, càlia e simenza, Minnuzze di Sant'Agata, Torrone of S.Agata with Ice Cream - Calia e simenza is Chickpeas and Pumpkin seeds, a roasted street food. Minnuzze and torrone are both very sweet. One has marzipan, the other has nougat. Both have lots of mix-ins. Traditional foods to eat during Sant'agata the Sicilian Patron Saint's Feastday.
> 
> Nino doesn't make Gianna mad enough to cook up a feast because he hates making her mad.
> 
> Stai scherzando?? - are you kidding me??  
> signora amore - Lady Love  
> è necessario mangiare. Ora! - You need to eat. Now!


	31. Chapter 31

I pick up the card, my hands trembling. _È viva_! It's her! I look around. No one seems to notice me.

How long was that there? Did I just not notice it? Is she here?

It's dry and smells faintly of her perfume. I breathe it in. My heart is in my throat as I carefully open the envelope.

_I'm sorry I couldn't see you earlier. I had to keep away from you, for both our sakes. The trial is finally over, and all I've wanted was to see you, Vitto. It's been such a cold, lonely winter without you. I know it's been hard for you, too. My last postcard couldn't have helped - it was a line from that movie that came out in December. It was fresh in my mind at the time._  
_I've watched you come here. I wanted to see you. You looked so broken. It tore my heart open._

_You might not recognize me, but I'm here if you still want me. I'll always be your passerotta._

My pulse is racing. I look around again, desperate. My gaze lands on a small figure by the lamp post, bundled in a tattered coat, her brown hair peeking out under a hat, just touching her shoulders. Our eyes meet and I swear I can't breathe, thinking she's just a phantom brought on by loneliness and hope. I never thought I'd see her again.

I start racing down the hill, my feet sliding on the dewy grass. I flail my arms to keep my balance. I must look like an idiot but I can't find it in me to care. Elizabeth, my little sparrow, laughs. Her mirth melts the sorrow that took up residence inside me, and it seems like the floodgates have opened. I feel hot tears stream down my face.

Capturing her in my arms, I press her to my chest. Yet, it's just not close enough. I remove my gloves to cradle the soft skin of her rosy cheeks. My lips find hers and we melt into each other’s touch. It's like learning how to walk again after spending so long crawling. 

I've missed her perfume, her smile, her dazzling hazel eyes. I take everything in, committing it to memory. I want to inscribe Elizabeth on my soul forever and ever. I take off her hat to get a better look at her hair. I'd grown so used to the platinum blonde she adopted just before becoming "Lisa" that I'd almost forgotten her natural hair color. This suits her so much better. My gaze drifts down to her hand as I interlock our fingers together. This is real. 

\---

I hail a taxi to bring us to the Brownstone. It's closer than the Villa and I cannot wait that long to get her behind closed doors. We are blushing like schoolchildren, simply content to hold hands while sitting closely in the backseat. I've missed her warmth _so much_. I tip the driver generously in exchange for him forgetting he ever saw us.

I open the door to the Brownstone. Stella and Susanna are listening to the radio, dancing. I rush Elizabeth into the bedroom. There will be plenty of time for conversations with her later. _I need to be alone with her right now._

For now, we have all the time in the world.

\---

"You _still_ haven't changed the bed?" She jokes.

"In my defense, I thought you were dead, _Passerotta_. It didn't seem to make sense at the time."

"Ms. Boseman said that I needed to sever all ties when going into hiding. That's why they ran that obituary for "Lisa." They moved my parents somewhere in New England, I'm not sure where...I imagine with the trial over, I'll finally get to find out." She draws circles on my bare chest. I don't think I'll ever get tired of her touch.

"After I found your parents moved, I went on an especially bad bender. I think I even broke a payphone. Stella still won't let me drink alone. I have to know though -- why that last one in December?"

"When I sent you that folio with all my notes, I had to focus my time on calling Prosecutor Boseman. She put me and my family under a sort of… witness protection, I guess you could call it. Davis was the only person I could still talk to given his resources. We went to a private showing of Camille when it was new. Kinda reminded me of the situation I was in between you and Juliano. She chooses the right one in the end, but dies of consumption. I wrote you her last line from the movie because it was so beautiful."

I run my fingers through her deliciously rumpled hair. "Maybe next time you can add some context so I'm not a dead man walking."

She sits up, propping her head up with her arm. "I dunno, you didn't seem very dead about ten minutes ago."

"Because you brought me back to life. _Sei la cosa più bella che mi sia mai capitata. Non posso vivere senza di te_."

"I don't know everything you just said, I really should learn more Italian." Her fingers glide along my neck. I grab them and kiss the tips, holding her gaze with mine.

"It means, ‘you are the best thing to ever happen to me’." I kiss up her arm and pull her back on top of me. I nuzzle my head in the crook of her neck and feel her pulse accelerating. Whether it's from the closeness, my tongue lazily drawing circles on her skin, or our state of undress, it doesn't matter to me. As long as I continue to enjoy her pleasured sighs.

"And the other one? You said an awful lot of words…"

"I can't live without you." My hands start exploring her body again. I never get tired of hearing her breath hitch when I find some new sensitive spot on her skin.

"Ohh…oh. Is that so?" She combs her fingers through my hair, dragging her nails across my scalp. The sensation sends tingling shivers down my spine. This feels like a competition, but I think we're both winning.

"Yes. Please _mia passerotta_ , if I lost you again, I think I might cease breathing. _Tu sei la mia aria_." I leave a trail of burning kisses along her neck, stopping to nip at the marks I left earlier, those delicious reminders that Elizabeth is mine. My lips become cartographers, mapping her body. I intend to survey every inch to commit to memory. I savor the warmth as it blooms across her skin once again. She tightens her grip in my hair as I continue my journey down her sternum towards her delectable hips. I am a mountain man, having crested the peaks with a shout, and now it is time to hear the echoing song of the valleys.

\---

She fells me quite thoroughly and I tumble down next to her still-trembling form. I kiss along her ears and rub my right hand along that gentle curve of her stomach. My other arm comes down above her head, to serve as a pillow and gently grip her shoulder while I continue to reacquaint myself with my lover’s body. Elizabeth's breathing comes down from its rapid staccato of her climax, evening out like a pendulum coming to rest at last. I wonder if she'll let me continue or if she needs a break. Better to ask, si?

My eyes look up from her mouth to meet her fluttering hazel gaze. I look at the results of my good work, knowing my face is smug. _Nei tuoi occhi c’è il cielo_.

" _Passerotta_ , do you need me to stop? I'm sorry if I am preventing you from getting rest…I just…"

She smiles and brings a finger to my lip to quiet me. I suck it into my mouth before moving lower once more.

\---

While I intended to find out how long we could both stay in bed, our stomachs betray us. We hastily put on our discarded clothing. I head into the kitchen to see what I can scrounge up for food.

"I was wondering how long you two would go at it," Stella snorts from the table. "Still, it's good to see you take interest in something other than smoking like a chimney, again."

I don't dignify her statement with a response, continuing my search. There's not much in the icebox, nor the cupboards, much to my dismay.

"We've mostly been eating out. Susanna makes enough these days. And neither of us cook." Stella picks at her fingernails while talking.

"Nonna would be ashamed of you. You need to learn to cook sometime. How else are you going to land a man?"

She pulls a face at me. "Who says I need one? I'm fine where I am now. Besides, I'd need to find someone who would let me be myself. And no ulterior motives would be nice. Hard to find that when your brother runs a big operation."

That's...fair. She'd have to find someone who didn't mind being humiliated on occasion. I don't know of anyone offhand as it's not a common trait among men.

I feel a familiar set of arms embrace me from behind. She presses her petite body into my back. Beatitudine. I don't think I'll ever get used to this.

"You find anything to eat yet?"

"No, _uccellina_ , looks like we'll have to go out."

Stella interrupts our line of thinking, "Oh don’t worry, I called Nino after you guys got home. He said he was going to bring food to celebrate."

Elizabeth perks up, "Oh! What kind?" Oh, my poor little _uccellina_. She has no idea. I resume searching the cupboard and find some half-used boxes of pasta. Might as well get this started because--

A frantic knocking echoes from the front door.

"Ah, that'll be him, Lupo. I'll let him in." Stella leaves to open the door, but Nino has already managed to make his way in. I set the water to boil and add a pinch of salt.

When there's any kind of celebration, big or small, Nino takes the opportunity as an excuse to make meatballs. It's the only recipe from his _Nonna_ that he retained, possibly the only recipe he knows. But he's had a lifetime to perfect them. As I’ve noted before, he served meatballs on Christmas Eve. Probably also Christmas Day. Gianna has to stop him from sneaking meatballs on Fridays during Lent. It's hard to blame the guy. After all, he has invented _la polpetta perfetta_.

I finish up the pasta, using some tongs to take out the pasta two minutes before the box tells me to. Have to save some of the cooking water because it’s full of starch. This is the secret to getting sauce to stick to the cooked noodles. I use some of the leftover canned sauce in the icebox and mix with my reserved pasta water. Once it’s warm, I toss the pasta back in with the sauce and stir. I then transfer the mixture into the one big bowl Nino left in the Brownstone for occasions that call for meatballs, which are as frequent as can be helped.

Nino doesn’t even wait for the pasta to hit the table before he starts dishing out meatballs into everyone’s bowls. I had wanted to selfishly keep Elizabeth to myself tonight, but I relent. If I care about Elizabeth, and everyone else cares about me, it makes sense that they’d also want to celebrate her return. It would be foolhardy to stop them. Also, the joy I take in watching her first experience with _la polpetta perfetta_ is not something I’d want to miss. After popping in the first one, she moans with pleasure. I try to cover my widening smile with my hand but utterly fail to contain it. Stella seems a little surprised to hear this sound in a different context.

“These are so good! How do you make them?”

“Family secret.” Nino turns to me and mouths “Don’t let her take this from me!” from behind his hand.

I smile and take Elizabeth’s hand.

\---

It took some convincing but eventually Elizabeth agrees to move into the Villa with me. I'm trying to ease back into my day-to-day but after delegating work for so long it's kind of nice to let go for a while. To have trust in other people. Sure, there's the risk that they can let you down but the free time it lends and the trust it builds is much more rewarding than forging ahead on my own.

I keep Stella involved in the business -- it seems that she likes being able to blend in with different crowds. She's gotten quite good with the constant stream of makeup that Susanna brings home. Nino has taken more ownership of running the restaurants, yet I still require him to run new suppliers by me. Bringing all of the business above board is tedious, but I'm convinced it will be worth it. Carmine still remains my close confidant.

Of course, Elizabeth has been itching for something to do now that she's found all her answers. But she can't exactly jump back into the news business like nothing has changed. I catch her peeking over my shoulder more and more. I'll have to keep her close by- away from trouble. Not because I'm worried about her necessarily… I’m more worried about who might make the mistake of underestimating her.

_Possono dire di non fidarsi di un bel viso ... ma io mi fido del suo..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by VerdiWithin, Red, and astroAntagonist
> 
> Thank you three so much. 
> 
> Notes:
> 
>  _É viva - (shortened)_ She's alive (literally, it's alive)
> 
>  _Tu sei la mia aria_ \- you are my air
> 
>  _Sei la cosa più bella che mi sia mai capitata. Non posso vivere senza di te_ _-_ translated in context - You are the best thing that ever happened to me. I can not live without you.
> 
>  _Nei tuoi occhi c’è il cielo -_ The sky is in your eyes
> 
>  _la polpetta perfetta_ \- the perfect meatball
> 
>  _Possono dire di non fidarsi di un bel viso ... ma io mi fido del suo_ \- they may say don't trust a pretty face, but I trust hers.
> 
> Thank you for reading the novel that ripped itself out of me over one crazy month.


End file.
